


Full Moon, Young Blood

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drama, Horror, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-07
Updated: 2011-09-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 07:19:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8702857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Sequel to "Flagstaff" but could probably be read as a standalone. In the summer of 1997, a month after Sam's little Flagstaff adventure, John tracks a trail of mutilated bodies to Knoxville, TN, leading them to a creature they've only ever heard about in movies. Meanwhile, Sam and Dean face their feelings for each other and the tensions that come along with growing up in the hunting life.





	1. Innocence Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

  
Author's notes: Updates will be a little slower for this story, as I'm still writing it! But anyways, enjoy! XO, A  


* * *

July 14, 1997

Sevierville, Tennessee

11:47 PM

 

The sound of crickets outside could be heard through the closed windows of the hotel room, bringing memories of warm summer nights as a child to the woman on the bed inside. But she wasn't an innocent little girl any longer as she was so fiercely reminded with every appointment with her clients. Leah lay back against the headboard of the comfy, warm bed inside the cool hotel room, flicking glances between her burning cigarette and the man gathering his clothes from around the room, stuffing them inside a suitcase. In terms of hotel rooms, this one was one of the nicest that her clients had purchased for their transactions. Queen-sized bed with stainless sheets, no distinct musty odor from lack of upkeep, it all made it feel less shameful. 

 

Yes, Russ Hartfield, a successful lawyer from Knoxville was quite the gentlemen, outside the bedroom. Leah was sure he wasn't near as rough with his wife as he was with her. Business is business, though, and her business was pleasure. She smiled and tugged her soft bath robe tighter around her body at the thought of sex as a business, realizing it was the only way she could do this job sometimes. The lawyer caught her smile as he finished buttoning up his shirt and moved back to her side to press a kiss to the side of her face. She'd gotten good at hiding her disgust for him, as she had with every other of her clients, so she smiled into the kiss instead of flinching away from it.

 

"What are you smiling about?" Russ murmured against her cheek before moving to her lips. "Remembering our weekend?"

 

Leah had to giggle at that, but kept it light and flirtatious, disguising the hilarity that he could show her a good time. "Yes, actually" she said, laying on the southern accent he loved so much. "Shall we do it again soon?"

 

He pressed another chaste kiss to her lips and ran a hand down her bare thigh before slapping it harshly, making her hiss in pain. "Sure thing, little darlin'" He said, smirking at her in smug self-satisfaction before grabbing his suitcase from the floor and walking to the door. 

 

"Same time next month" he said as he tossed a sizable roll of bills onto the bed. "Get some sleep, the room's paid for the night."

 

"What will you tell your wife? Business trip?" Leah said, unable to hold her tongue any longer. Her despise for cheating men was just too much for her sometimes, but she once again managed to keep her tone light and her scorn went unnoticed by the lawyer who just grinned cheekily at her as he opened the door.

 

"Dead family member she's never met before" he said before snorting in laughter and walking out the door, closing it behind him. As soon as she heard his footsteps disappear beyond the door, she cried out in disgust, tossing one of her pillows at the wall near the door. 

 

"Slimy bastard…" she said, shaking her head and taking one last drag of her cigarette before crushing the butt into the ash tray beside the bed. 

 

She snatched up the roll of bills at the foot of the bed and unfurled them, counting them out with a little bit of satisfaction. She smiled to herself when she finished, reaching $400. She piled the money together before walking over to her small duffel bag and shoving it deep underneath all the clothes she brought for the weekend. She shuddered, remembering the weekend with the lawyer; with his disgusting fetishes and come-ons. No wonder he wasn't getting any at home. His wife was obviously a smart woman, and if Leah wasn't getting so much for it, she'd kick his ass to the curb, too. She sighed again wearily and shuddered yet again.

 

"Maybe a shower will at least wash the smell of him off of me.." Leah said, digging some clean clothes out of her bag before walking to the door to lock and deadbolt it. She walked into the bathroom, and out of habit locked the door behind her. She sat her clothes on the toilet seat before turning on the shower head, letting the hot water fill the room with steam. It was an after-sex ritual she did after her clients, showering in the most scalding water in an effort to cleanse everything that couldn't be seen on her skin. The feel of a stranger's skin on hers, touching her in places that should only be allowed to those she trusted. She didn't even trust her clients as far as she could throw them but she didn't need trust to have sex. This wasn't love. 

 

Leah grabbed a wrapped bar of soap on the ledge of the shower and ripped the paper off, fiercely scrubbing her skin with it before letting the merciless hot spray of water wash it away. She was about to reach for the shampoo when the a loud booming noise echoed from outside her door, in the room. It echoed inside the tiny, steamy room three times. Leah pulled back the shower curtain to peer out underneath the bathroom door. She could see no movement in the room outside, but another loud boom sounded, like something big was knocking against a wall. She spit out a furious breath before turning off the shower and pulling a towel off the rack above the toilet, just as another bang sounded. She ripped the door open and stalked out, tying the towel around her waist as she did.

 

"Goddamn it, Russ!" Leah shouted. "If you missed your flight, you're paying me for whatever.."

 

She froze when she saw the top hinge of the metal door broken, when another attack to the door struck, beginning to knock out the middle hinge. She rushed to push against the door, to push against whatever force was trying to break into the room. Her heart was hammering high into her throat as a guttural growl sounded from the other side of the door. With every knock against the door, Leah felt her body shake with the force behind it.

 

"Help!" She shouted out, feeling her fear unfreeze her vocal chords. She pushed backwards with her heels, but whoever, or whatever, was attacking the door was just too strong. "Someone fucking help me!" she sobbed. As soon as she got the words out of her mouth, the attack stopped, sudden and silent. Leah panted, bracing herself still for when the force would begin again it's attack on the door. After a few moments of silence and stillness, she carefully turned against the door, wiping her wet hair out of her face. She looked through the peephole of the battered door, but saw nothing outside but the dark, nearly empty parking lot. She sighed and slumped against the door, slinking down it slowly. Leah closed her eyes and swallowed back the dry feeling in her throat.

 

"What the f--"

 

The loud shattering of glass filled the room, followed by Leah's frantic screaming as something crashed in through the broken window near the door. Leah crawled away from the door until she got to her feet and ran towards the bathroom, she saw the inhuman bright eyes in the mirror behind her, following her swiftly. She turned to close the door behind her but the creature grabbed her from behind, by the neck and pulled her backward, letting her head smack the tiled floor. Leah struggled to stay conscious and only barely let out another scream before she felt the clawed hand sinking into her chest, ripping past flesh and muscle and bone and grasping around her still beating heart. Her screams were cut short and the feral, blue eyes were the last thing she saw alive. 

 

**********

 

Sam's eyes snapped open wide for about the fifth time since they went to bed at 10 p.m. and he tried not to growl in aggravation.

 

4:15 AM

 

The bright red digital letters were burned into Sam's eyelids, so that even when he closed them to try and will sleep to come to him, he still knew it was too late to try for it. A little under two hours and they were going to have to wake up and hit the road, John's ruling. So Sam was gonna have to either get some sleep soon, or sack up and deal with lack of sleep when it came time to wake up. It was just that it was so damn hot! They were in midsummer Knoxville, TN for God's sakes with no air conditioner in their (surprise, surprise) shitty hotel room. It was bad enough that there were only two beds, but Sam was sweaty and he felt sticky and nasty on the itchy sheets. And then, there was the fact that even though there was a foot between him and Dean's bare back, he could still feel his body heat. Could hear his soft snores near him. He could smell his shampoo and stale sweat from the pillow close to him, and it was doing things to Sam's cock that he really couldn't do much about right now. It was so damn cruel and wrong for him to be attracted to his brother and be this close to him with a hard-on. He blew out a frustrated breath and froze when he heard his father growl slightly in his sleep and turn over.

 

Sam rolled his eyes in the dark, remembering vividly the encounter he and Dean had with their father when they'd walked into their hotel room that evening after his little…adventure in Flagstaff. He remembered the automatic response to his father standing there near the door, arms crossed and expressionless, the gray light from the rainy weather shining inside from the doorway. 

 

 

 

"Dad" Dean nodded to him, hands going in his pockets and automatically stepping an inch in front of Sam, not a threatening stance, but a defensive one nevertheless. Sam noticed it and moved to stand right at Dean's side, moving close enough so that their arms touched and he could feel Dean's body heat through his leather jacket. Dean flinched ever so slightly at the contact, but showed nothing in his expression.

 

"Dad" Sam said, copying Dean's greeting, meeting John's eyes with resolution

 

John crossed the space between them and Sam flinched in preparation for pain, but was caught off guard by a hug crushing him to his father's body, stale sweat and old liquor filling his lungs as he breathed in. He slumped in his father's arms a little and allowed himself to be hugged, but didn't bother to try and return it. His father could have done with a little bit of worrying about him instead of damn monsters for a change.

 

"Thank God you're alright" John sighed, before pulling back and looking Sam over. Once done, his gaze turned a little harsh as it fell on Dean. "It's about damn time. You can track monsters, but not your own little brother?"

 

Dean opened his mouth to speak but closed it just as soon and simply took his father's scolding. Sam, however, pushed himself out of his father's grip and away from him to stand in front of Dean.

 

"I'm not a kid, Dad, I ran away on my own" Sam said, swallowing. 

 

"Sam, don't be--" Dean interrupted, trying to keep the heat on him.

 

"No, Dean, I knew what I was doing, and I made sure to cover my tracks so you guys wouldn't find me." Sam said firmly before turning a bit sheepish, looking at Dean. "In fact, if it wasn't for Dean, I'd be in pretty bad shape right now."

 

Dean simply looked guilty and flicked his gaze between his father and Sam, ready to jump in at any moment.

 

"It doesn't matter, Dean should've been watching you--"

 

"He was watching me like a freaking hawk, Dad, if he had to watch me any closer he'd be up my ass--"

 

"--Sam!" Dean hissed.

 

"Watch your mouth with me, boy" his father said, patience wearing thin.

 

"Well, it's true Dad, he's my big brother, not my babysitter" Sam said, as Dean moved between them as Sam stepped forward in his argument. "If you wanna punish someone--" 

 

"--Punish me" both brothers said in unison, both turning to each other with their own glare after the words were out.

 

John cleared his throat, directing their attention back to him. "Dean, no taking the car out for fun until I say otherwise."

 

"Didn't you hear a word I freaking said?!" Sam shouted, arms out in outrage

 

"Yes, I did" John said calmly. "You're gonna get what you want, Sam, don't worry. I agree with you, it's time for you to grow up."

 

 

 

What exactly that meant, Sam didn't know. Dean had bristled at his side at that comment, but Sam just watched his father walk away from them, telling them to get packing as he did. 

 

Once again, Sam found his mind racing away instead of shutting down and allowing him to get some sleep. He relaxed into the sheets and closed his eyes tight. If he couldn't will sleep to come, he'd will the damn erection away. It'd taken him a while after Dean kissed him to fully figure out exactly why he wasn't bothered by his love for him. And that was just it: it was love. He loved how Dean would hold him close when he was upset and press kisses into his hair. He loved how he would always think of what Sam liked when they managed to go grocery shopping. How he would do the stupidest things just to get a small, stubborn smile out of Sam when he was being bitchy. And even though he'd never admit it, he loved the way that Dean, and only Dean could call him "Sammy". Somewhere along the lines of their fraternal love that he'd always taken for granted, something changed. He just didn't realize it until Dean's lips were against his and his whole body was charged like electricity, wanting more like oxygen to a fire. Dean had decided he wanted to forget it, though. That he wanted Sam to forget it ever happened.

 

But, Sam wasn't an idiot. There was more than just relief in that kiss, and there was the obvious effort Dean was putting into not touching Sam in the slightest way. The way Dean avoided meeting his eyes, like he would turn to stone if he met them, so Sam knew he wasn't the only one feeling it. Wasn't the only one feeling the fire that was burning him alive.

 

 

 

A blaring, beeping noise threw Dean's eyelids open, and he heard a small groan escape Sam's lips over the 6:00 AM alarm. He heard his father's hand smack the top of the alarm clock and squinted his eyes when the lights clicked on. Dean sat up and rubbed at his eyes with the palm of his hands. He hadn't slept all too well throughout the night, thanks to the excessive heat. Plus, he could actually feel Sam constantly being awake, his mind never shutting off. Dean watched his father get to his feet and grab a pair of jeans.

 

"Up and at em, boys" John's gruff, sleep-thickened voice said quietly as he pulled his jeans on. "I've gotta make a phone call, and then we'll be hitting the road in thirty minutes. Pack it up."

 

Their father opened the door, letting in a warm breeze to the already stuffy room before closing it behind him. He would be going to call Pastor Jim to ask about any news, then they'd be on the road. He looked over at Sammy, who reluctantly sat up as well, eyes sagging from lack of sleep, yawning broadly. Poor kid would have to get a cup of coffee in him or he'd be dragging around all day. His eyes caught Dean's assessing him and Dean averted his gaze, getting to his feet and walking over to his suitcase of clothes. He could feel Sam's eyes on him as he pulled out some fresh clothes but acted as if he didn't. Sam knew better.

 

"So… are we ever gonna talk about this?" came the feared words from Sam's mouth, and Dean closed his eyes in exasperation. He turned around to face Sam's worried and awkward expression. "Cause, uh, I'm pretty sure Dad's gonna notice soon that we can't even look each other in the eyes."

 

"How can I, Sam?" Dean said, tossing his clothes onto their bed. "What exactly do you want me to say?"

 

Sam shrugged, standing up and walking towards Dean, noticing how he backed away as Sam came closer. "Anything. We just need to get this out in the open."

 

Dean scoffed, before plastering on his trademark sarcastic smirk. "Out in the open, huh? You think it's gonna make things any better?"

 

"Yeah, I do" Sam said, chin resolute as he crossed his arms and watched Dean expectantly.

 

"Alright, how's this?" Dean said, He looked to the door for a moment before continuing in a hiss. "I kissed my younger brother. Do you know how fucked up that is?"

 

Sam flinched back from the words as is Dean had slapped him. He had known Dean was guilty about it, but he didn't know how fucked up he thought it was. Sam wondered how he'd feel if Dean knew that Sam had liked it and had to fight the fear and panic in his stomach at the thought of Dean's disgusted expression. He wondered if Dean would ask their father to get them separate beds? He wondered if Dean would disown him, stop sticking up for him when their father was angry with him. Stop calling him "Sammy"?

 

"…Sammy?" Dean said, trying to get his younger brother's attention.

 

Sam snapped out of his thoughts, peering up at Dean and swallowing. "Yeah, you're right. We, uh, should just forget it."

 

Dean's heart dropped when he saw the hurt in Sam's eyes, realizing he'd said something that'd put that hurt there. "Sam?"

 

"I'm gonna hit the head before you get in the shower" Sam said, walking quickly to the bathroom.

 

Dean started after him. "Sam--" He was cut off by the slamming and locking of the bathroom door. He closed his eyes and sighed, running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. 

 

Sam looked in the small, grimy bathroom mirror and breathed deeply in and out of his nose, trying to stop the tears he felt coming. What had he exactly been thinking? That Dean would return these new feelings he felt for him? That he'd kiss him again? That he wouldn't regret their kiss? Wouldn't regret incest?

 

"Stupid." Sam whispered to his reflection. "How.. fucking stupid."

 

 

Dean paced back and forth between his and Sam's bed and the wall, glancing every now and then at the bathroom door. He whipped around when he heard the hotel room door opening, diving for the knife he still had under his pillow, already in a defensive stance when the doorway opened for his father. He eyed the salt line beneath the door and relaxed when his father crossed it.

 

"I could be a shifter, Dean. They can cross salt lines." his father warned. 

 

Dean cursed to himself, knowing he'd forgotten something. "Next time, I'll cut your hand with this" Dean said, waving the knife at his father who was now smirking and shaking his head.

 

"What did Pastor Jim have to say?" Dean said, pulling on a pair of clean jeans as his father cleared out a few weapons from their bedside table. "Anything new?"

 

"Yes, actually" John said, glancing at his oldest son. "That trail of bodies missing hearts that we've been tracking? There was a 911 call from a hotel in Sevierville a few hours back."

 

Dean felt a thrill go through him, one of fear and exhilaration. The feeling he got when a new hunt was on the table. "What happened?" he asked, as he pulled on a shirt and frowned when he realized it didn't smell all that fresh.

 

"Guests complained of screams in a nearby room" John said. "Management went to check it out and found a window completely broken through and inside, a mauled prostitute."

 

"And her heart was missing?" Dean said, eyebrows raising, stopping mid-dressing.

 

"Heart was ripped from her chest, with claws" John said, nodding as he stuffed the last of the guns, knives and talismans into a duffel bag.

 

Dean whistled in disbelief, now completely dressed.

 

"Where's Sam?" John said, going over to a chair pulled out from underneath a small table in the room where his bag sat.

 

"Right here" Sam's voice came from behind them. Dean whipped around, heart dropping again when he saw Sam wearing one of his old button-ups. He was growing up so fast and getting more and more handsome every day. Less baby fat Sammy and more lean and muscled Sam. He met Sam's eyes and saw the hurt still there.

 

"Well, finish packing and get ready" John said, picking up the weapons duffel bag and his bag of clothes as he walked back to the door.

 

"For what?" Sam said.

 

"For your first hunt, Sammy. It's time to be an adult." John said, as he walked out the door.

 

Neither Sam or Dean could stop their jaws from dropping. Sam, in disbelief. Dean, in horror.


	2. Too Close

Sam looked around the McDonald's they'd stopped at for lunch, watching the families surrounding them. The bright-colored, kid-friendly environment contrasted so much with their life that Sam found it nearly laughable. They hunted things that would scar the poor children surrounding them, chewing on french fries and playing with the small toys in their happy meals. Dean pitied them, found their guilded cage life something to scoff at, but Sam envied them. 

 

They didn't have their father come home covered in blood that was sometimes not just his own. They didn't live like nomads, sometimes starving from one week to the next. They had a home and a mother to soothe them when things got bad. Not so for Sam and Dean. Sam turned away from the families around him and back to his own at those thoughts, not daring to dream of a life of "what if's".

 

Their father was scribbling something in his journal, had a map of Tennessee out with all the locations of the recent murders marked across it. Dean was looking out the window at the passing cars, quiet, thoughtful and not at all Dean-like. Sam had a feeling it had to do more with the fact that their father was allowing Sam to hunt than the happy meal he'd gotten because it was cheaper than an adult meal. Actually, Dean normally played with the toys like he was a five-year-old, annoying Sam to death with them. 

 

Dean glanced over at Sam, watching him avert his glance like he wasn't just studying him like a good book. He knew Sam could tell something was up, but he'd be damned if he told Sam what it was. When they were younger, Dean had always begged their father to let him go with him on a hunt. One time, when Dean was twelve, he'd given in and brought Dean along to what turned out to be a simple spirit, leaving Sam with their Uncle Bobby. Dean had come back wide-eyed and it had taken a week to tell Sam what had happened. Bobby had been pissed, not allowing John to come back again until he "got his priorities in order". 

 

Dean had been on hunts since then, sure, but he never complained about staying with Sam. When Sam asked him when he could start hunting, Dean said he hoped never cause Sam would probably run off crying. Sam could see through Dean even then though, how terrified Dean was at the thought of Sam being in so much danger. Dean supposed his father would just always have him do the dirty work and have Sam stay back and do the research. He should've known better. He was shaken out of his thoughts when a french fry hit him on the side of his face. 

 

He looked up to see Sam grinning cheekily, dimples all lit up and reaching his bright blue-flecked hazel eyes like they so rarely did. Dean couldn't help the toothy grin that spread across his own face. They had that ability on each other, he noticed, to make the other smile in troubling times. It warmed Dean's insides in a fluttery way here lately when he thought about Sam's smile, how he would be the only one who could cause it to light up that dimpled face sometimes. His own smile began to fade and he tore his eyes from Sam's when he realized that it wasn't with exactly brotherly love that it warmed his heart. And the warmth was extinguished and he shivered with the cold that seemed to close in. He caught Sam's expression falter but refused to meet his eyes again.

 

Their father took a sip of his drink before clearing his throat and gathering up his papers, then stood up without another word, which was the cue that it was time to leave. Once in the comfort of the Impala with the engine thrumming and miles between them and the fast food restaurant, their father began the usual debriefing before a hunt. Dean paid close attention to their father, making sure he got every detail. Sam merely stared out the window and let his mind drift off to somewhere outside the car.

 

"All of the victims across the state have been found ripped to pieces by some creature, usually blamed on wild dogs nearby" John said, looking over at Dean, whom he could always count on to listen. "I'm not so sure here. The fact that all their hearts are missing points to something completely different, but I need to see this thing up close to be sure."

 

Sam's head snapped up, a shocked expression on his face. "Up close?" he said. "Isn't that kind of risky without knowing what you're dealing with?"

 

"I said, I have an idea of what we're dealing with, Sam", his father said, meeting Sam's eyes in the rearview mirror. "I'm not going in unprepared, don't worry. I have to go by the complex where Leah lived and ask around for information and I have a few errands to run."

 

Sam sat back in his seat and tried not to roll his eyes at their father. He always taught them to 'never go in unprepared' but he tended to contradict himself when things got desperate. Ten vicious murders across the state of Tennessee and things got desperate.

 

"Need any help, Dad?" Dean said. Sam looked toward Dean at the faintest sound of hope in his older brother's voice. He was hoping their father would take him along so he wouldn't be alone with Sam, and damn if that didn't sting a bit.

 

"I do, actually" John said, taking his eyes off the road to look between Sam and Dean. "I need you to train Sam up a bit so we'll be ready when the time comes to hunt. "Make sure he's in top shape."

 

"Yes, sir" Dean nodded, but didn't look too pleased, which disappointed Sam. He was starting to wonder if Dean saw that same disappointment in his eyes earlier that morning when Dean had called the idea of them together "fucked up". Sam sighed and sat back, feeling like the day was about to get even longer.

 

************

 

The hot, crowded office had a heady stench of incense and old perfumes wafting in the air. It looked professional enough in appearance apart from the cluttered space, filled with file cabinets overflowing with photos and information on girls, to be used for blackmailing or blackballing.

 

At 39 years old, Caroline Sayers had a made a pretty good life for herself without even a GED, if she said so herself, and she did. Running a modern day brothel as a boarding house without letting the police getting word of it was not easy. She did it, though. She took young ladies it, fed them, clothed them, gave them new lives and they all lived comfortably. All they had to do was pay a small price. Mama Sayers taught them that men just appreciated their beauty so much that they were willing to pay. They paid even more to touch, and they paid an assload for a whole week of touching. Follow the rules of the house and you get to live a life of luxury.

 

Sure, she had a problem with a few of them, but she'd turned them around real quick when she showed them how easy it was to grin and bear it with your legs over your head. After all, she'd had to do the same thing when she was younger. Hell, she'd not had such generosity from anyone like she gave her girls when she was in their shoes. Now a heavily made-up older woman with short red hair, she'd been "Cherry Bomb", a red-haired bombshell in her twenties. She'd be beaten black and blue for asking for nights off or for backing out of the business. But, she let her girls know that they were free to come and go as they please, but as long as they were under her roof, they'd pay one way or another. 

 

Caroline was snapped out of her musings by a knock on her office door. She wheeled her chair away from the barely sputtering window unit in the window to face her desk. 

 

"Yeah, come in!" she yelled, putting out the cigarette she'd been smoking on.

 

It was one of her new girls, Lilly, still bright and perky, blonde with nice tits and new to the game. She wasn't worn thin like some of her older models. She had a worried look on her face and was looking behind her at a handsome man in a business suit.

 

"Ma'am, this man says he has questions for you about Leah" Lilly said, worrying with her braided hair to show how nervous she was. "He says she was murdered."

 

John watched quietly as Caroline's eyes widened as she took in his appearance. He was a cop, no doubt. He was pretty close to her age, maybe a couple years younger but still ruggedly handsome with his dark, messy hair and bright blue eyes. She stood and walked around her desk, dismissing Lilly with a wave, who promptly stepped out of John's way as he walked inside, closing the door behind him. 

 

John reached inside his left coat pocket where he kept his Police badge, holding it out for Caroline to see. He introduced himself as John Young with a charming smile that Dean had no doubt inherited from him, as he'd noticed of late. The older woman wasn't deterred by the badge and twirled her frazzled red hair with a smile. In fact, she inched a leg up against the other beneath her bedroom gown in a way she clearly thought was alluring. She then, smiled and held a hand out, introducing herself before gesturing to the only other chair in the room, across from the desk. John smiled and took the seat, watching as she took a seat on the desk, her foot playing idly against his leg.

 

"What can I do you for, Officer Young?" Caroline said in a sultry voice that said she was clearly requesting something other than helping with an investigation. John would be lying if he said he wasn't impressed with her gall.

 

"I'd just like to ask you a few questions about one of your tenants, then I'll be out of your hair" John said, again adding a winning smile.

 

"No need to rush.." Caroline replied with her own toothy grin. 

 

John pushed onward, patience and playfulness wearing thin. "Leah Millsap was one of your tenants, correct?"

 

Caroline's smile faltered and John thought she looked actually mournful. She reached behind her on the desk and pulled another cigarette out of the pack she had on the table, lighting it with a Zippo she fumbled for in her silken robes. She took a puff of the cigarette before turning back to John. "She's--She was one of my best…tenants" Sayers said with a quick look to make sure John caught the drift. He nodded to show he did, and she continued.

 

"She was quiet, kept to herself and brought in the money" Caroline said, stopping for another puff. "And I mean, she really brought in the high-rollers. Doctors, lawyers, hell, she even landed a TV star once, I got pics if you want 'em"

 

John shook his head politely as she started toward her cluttered file cabinet. "No, that's alright" He said. "Had she been dating anyone violent or possessive lately?"

 

"Hell no" Caroline said, frowning. "We got special ways of handling situations like that. Real protective of my girls, I am."

 

"What about her latest clients?" John said, not satisfied with her answer. "Anyone who might not want it getting out that he'd been with one of your girls?"

 

"Well, we run a strict business here" Caroline mumbled around her cigarette, before giving him look like she was undressing him in her mind. "But, since you're Johnny Law and all…". She walked over to her filing cabinet and opened a drawer, mumbling as she thumbed through some unorganized tabs. Finally, she pulled out a newer looking folder and passed it over to John.

 

"Name's Russ Hartfield, started seeing Leah about a month ago and he's one of the best damn lawyers in Tennessee" Caroline said, as John peered inside the file, ignoring the list of his fetishes and going for his addresses, mentally copying them down. "Made sure to be real discreet with their sessions, since he's got such a reputation and a such a pretty little family."

 

John peered up at her from the folder, keeping eye contact as he slipped the folder inside his coat. "Did they always keep their business at out of town hotels?" John said, ignoring the narrowed eyes Caroline was giving him.

 

"Pretty much" Caroline said, shrugging as she took another puff off her cigarette. "'Cept for the first time they met. He drove her up to his family cabin in the mountains. Leah told me that he and his wife never went up there, so they'd be in the clear."

 

A little thrill went through John, the kind that usually went with finding a clue. "Where is this cabin, exactly?" John said, leaning forward to catch her eyes and throw an expectant smile her way.

 

"Just off Ball Camp Pike, then another five miles…" John had stopped listening, his heart thudding in his chest with ice in his blood as he realized that it was the same cabin that he and his boys were currently squatting in. He ignored Caroline's shouts to "wait" and to "come back again soon" as he practically flew out the door and back down the stairs. Whatever it was they were dealing with, come nightfall, it'd be out and about, with Sam and Dean as it's closest targets.

 

 

************

 

The Southern heat was still absolutely sweltering at 4 in the afternoon. The sun wasn't directly overhead anymore, but Sam felt like his skin was baking on his body. He already had a sweating problem, and coupled with the humid heat of Tennessee, he had soaked through his plain white t-shirt, and his legs really felt like they were in an oven within his jeans. It had been a while since Sam had any practice, but it was pretty much instinct for him now to catch on. He may not have had any actual hunting experience, but he got the idea: fight to live. 

 

He and Dean had been throwing knives at a spray-painted target on the side of a dead tree for about an hour and a half now, and as he got more and more tired, his throws started lacking. Dean, apparently had noticed that and it hadn't improved his mood any. There was an upside to the whole situation that, when Sam really thought about it, shouldn't be an upside to a normal psyche, but his wasn't exactly normal, now was it? 

 

Dean. 

 

Sam was trying so hard not to look at him because he was just so fucking hot right now it was ridiculous. His bare skin was sun-kissed and pink, especially underneath his eyes, which made the jade stand out all the more brightly. Sweat gleamed in a sheen all over his tight, muscled body, soaking through his dirtied white muscle shirt. Every time Dean would throw one of those knives, his shirt would lift up ever so slightly in the back, revealing the tanned skin of his back as it dipped down below the waistband of the jeans that hugged him so nicely.

 

His brother hadn't (thankfully) caught him ogling him like the horny teenager he was, thank God. He had been getting annoyed with how slow Sam was getting today, though. And the look on his face as he approached Sam wasn't a happy one. Sam watched his mouth move, not quite understanding that Dean was talking to him.

 

"SAM!" Dean said, getting about a foot away from his younger brother and snapping his fingers at him. "Pay attention or you'll end up killing me or Dad instead of what we're hunting."

 

Sam blushed slightly, ducking his head. "Sorry, Dean."

 

Dean glanced back at him as he walked to the line he'd drawn in the dirt and held up a knife between his fingers, he weighed it in his hand a little before tossing it. "Where's your head today, Sammy?" He winced as the words left his mouth, knowing he probably didn't wanna hear the answer. The knife hit the bullseye right in the middle circle. Perfect shot.

 

Sam caught Dean's form freeze after the words escaped him and sighed. He wiped the sweat from his brow and the bangs sticking to his forehead before squinting at his brother in the sun. "Nothing. Just.. nervous about the hunt, I guess." He threw a small smile at Dean as his brother made his way back over to him

 

Dean watched his brother's expression falter a little, neither his smile or his lie coming off genuine. It made him ache a little, knowing he'd put that fake smile there. Dean sighed, rubbing a hand over his sweaty, sunburnt brow. "Yeah, well I don't like it either…"

 

Dean stopped short, his gut telling him that this wasn't exactly about the hunt after all. "Sam, look…"

 

"--Dean, can we just not talk about it?" Sam said, smiling politely, though his eyes were fearful and pleading. He pulled his gaze away from his brother to glare at the tree ahead of him, holding the knife the way Dean had shown him. "I already feel enough like a freak as it is with the way you look at me, I don't need to talk it out."

 

Dean swallowed at Sam's words, eyes snapping to where the blade thudded into the bark of the decaying tree. His knife had landed right beside Dean's inside the innermost circle. He tore his eyes from the target and watched Sam dig a water out of the cooler nearby before sitting on it. Dean walked over and took the bottle from Sam. "You're wrong" Dean said, taking a drink of the water. "I don't think you're a freak, Sam."

 

Sam blushed and licked his lips, watching a few drops escape his brother's lips, running down his chin and glinting in the hot sun. He met Dean's eyes and felt suddenly comfortable in the heat. They were a clear, bright green in the sunlight and Sam felt like he could see everything there. He could see Dean was being honest. He only saw love and concern in those eyes and it made his heart do a bit of a jump. He swallowed past the dryness of his throat, determining whether to push the conversation further. Sam stood up, feeling a bit brave as he took a step towards Dean.

 

"Then, why won't you admit to what happened?" Sam said, tracking to Dean's right, keeping his smile hidden when Dean stepped to the left. "Why won't you admit that you liked kissing me as much as I liked kissing you?"

 

"Cause I didn't, Sam." Dean said, voice tight with frustration. "Just let it go, for Christ's sakes.."

 

"Liar" Sam scoffed, before an idea formed in his head. He smirked as Dean's outraged face turned towards him. Sam took advantage of the element of surprise and charged forward, nearly catching Dean around his waist, but Dean was quicker. 

 

"Going after a man when you're playing with his head.." Dean said, chuckling, his tight stomach quivering with the laughter. His eyes locked with Sam's, a darker shade of green that sent a thrill through Sam. "You sure you're not a chick, Sammy?"

 

"We'll see who's the chick when I take your ass down" Sam said, eyes narrowed, as he went back to pacing to the side, bottom lip between his teeth in concentration.

 

Dean was getting agitated now, but he refused to let Sam know he was getting to him. He was hot all over and it had less to do with the sun and more to do with the way he could see Sam's developing muscles through his sweat-soaked shirt, perspiration dripping in rivulets from his sticky bangs. For the life of him, though, he couldn't take his eyes away from Sam's. The usually warm eyes were now burning dark into Dean's and he felt like he was on fire. Sam looked every bit like the hunter that Dean had trained him to be: eyes dark and wary, knees bent just so, feet planted firmly with every step and arms out in preparation. 

 

And it knocked the air out of him that Sammy wasn't little Sammy anymore. He growled with the realization and launched himself toward his brother. Sam was apparently the one caught off guard this time, judging by the shocked look as he hit the ground, tumbling. Dean rolled them until he had Sam pinned to the ground by the wrist, knees planted on top of his thighs to restrict his legs. Sam grunted and scowled at Dean's triumphant grin, made all the more brighter by the sun shining through the trees behind his head.

 

"I recall someone threatening to take me down?" Dean said, smirking, as Sam wriggled beneath him. He felt the heat hit him again below the belt as his mind supplied the word "writhed" instead of "wriggled". He felt a blush creep beneath his cheeks and let out a very un-manly yelp as Sam somehow got his legs out from under Dean, wrapped them around his back and flipped them so that Sam now covered him with his lanky body. 

 

"Told ya" Sam said, panting, sweat dropping from his bangs onto Dean's face as he crept closer. "Jerk."

 

"Bitch" Dean said, in nearly quiet retaliation as his eyes flicked from Sam's to Sam's lips until they were pressed flush against his. Crickets were sounding in the late afternoon as the sun was setting and their bodies were practically glowing from the sunlight.

 

Unlike, the worried, rain-soaked kiss in the meth lab trailer back in Flagstaff, this kiss had Dean absolutely lost. Fuck the fact that it was Sam kissing him, this was hot as hell. It was soft, slow and burned alive every nerve ending Dean had, until he was panting. Sam opened his mouth with a breathy moan and Dean slipped his tongue inside, tasting the sweetness he'd refused to think about for weeks now. His fingers were tangled in Sam's sweat-dampened hair and he was suffocating but he didn't care. All he wanted was more.

 

He was snapped out of it pretty damn quick, though. He felt Sam's hard as diamond erection pressing against his own through their two layers of denim and Sam apparently came to the same conclusion, cause he was jumping off of Dean like he literally was on fire. Dean could tell even under his sun-pinked skin that Sam was blushing effusively and he looked absolutely terrified. Like Dean was gonna hit him or something.

 

Fuck. What the fucking hell?? Sam felt like he was gonna be sick. Dean had told him to drop it and he wouldn't listen. In fact, he'd practically dry-humped him! His older brother! Add that on top of kissing and Sam was fucked. Dean was gonna never gonna speak to him again. His freak of a brother.

 

"I'm-I'm sorry, Dean" Sam said, guilty soaking his words. He refused to meet Dean's gaze, and honestly, Dean was having trouble sorting out exactly how he felt about it himself. Kissing was one thing, and he'd been wracked with guilt about that for a month now but… Sam was hard! And so had Dean been!

 

He'd apparently taken too long to answer, though because Sam took off into the woods before Dean realized what was going on. Dean scrambled to his feet, tripping over them a few times as he took off into the trees after Sam. 

 

"Sam, wait!" Dean called after him, but Sam had such a head start that it was tough to decide which direction to yet in, much less follow. After a yard or two, Dean came to the clearing from where the road turned off, where their father dropped them off. It was getting dark and their Dad would be back any moment to pick them up. He whirled around, turning back the woods. Dean cupped his hands and yelled for Sam as loud as he could. All he got back was the sound of frogs croaking and crickets chirping along with the echo of his voice.

 

Shit.

 

It was Flagstaff all over again, he lamented as he put his hands on his knees and panted. He stiffened when a high-pitched, guttural howl sounded through the trees, riding up his legs and his spine. Whatever wolf made that sound was out in these woods, and so was Sam. Dean clenched his fists in panic and determination and took off back into the trees, yelling Sam's name as loud as he could. Dean didn't' care if the wolf heard him, because, either he was gonna find Sam, even if that meant the wolf came after him instead of Sam.


	3. Shaken

The moon shone down through the treetops like a glare; like a spotlight on Dean as he moved swiftly between briars and vines and branches. His heartbeat and breathing stayed quiet in his ears to make way for the sound of any footsteps or snarling that seemed to accompany the creatures they hunted so religiously. His eyes didn't stay on one spot as he moved, his vision shaking with the swift thump of his boots on the ground as he moved. He gripped his gun tight and kept check of the silver knife in his back pocket. This was all-out fucking crazy and Dean could honestly say his mind was racing faster than his heart as breath after breath of warm forest air filled his lungs.

 

He was running through a forest where he could practically feel something supernatural following him and he didn't know what the hell it was. He had lost Sam. Fucking again. Actually, Sam had gotten a boner, freaked and ran off like a bitch. Not that Dean could blame him all that much, but now wasn't the time to think about Sam's dick. And, on top of all of that, he now realized he was lost. Dean skidded to a halt in the middle of a clearing, the moon penetrating brightly. He growled in frustration, trying to keep calm, pulling his hands into his sweat-dampened hair as he turned around in circles.

 

"Sam!" He bellowed yet again into the forest, his voice weakening hoarsely. "Sammy!"

 

He froze when he heard a rustling behind him, wheeled around and peered around into the darkness, trying to separate the shadows of trees from silhouetted creatures preparing to attack. He instantly regretted not going back for a flashlight, but he'd just have to really watch who or what he shot. If he wasn't careful, he could end up shooting Sam and.. He shuddered, shaking off his train of thought.

 

He walked between two thick trees and was caught off guard by a tackle to his left side, pinning him to the tree on his right. His finger relaxed off the trigger when he realized it was Sam, who pressed his right palm against Dean's mouth, making a "be quiet" motion with his other hand.

 

Dean had to shake himself out of a sudden warmth that hit him down south from the wave of Sam's scent that hit him, and the light, salty taste of Sam's hand touched his lips. He forgot all about it though when he saw Sam's panicked eyes glancing around quickly, his body involuntarily pressing into Dean's for protection. Dean grabbed Sam around the shoulders and shook him lightly, making it clear that Sam needed to get a grip.

 

Sam blinked once, twice and then his gaze set on Dean fiercely and he nodded once, understanding, but still held a bit of frantic in his bright eyes. Dean pulled the silver knife out of his back pocket and slipped it into Sam's palm, curling his fingers around Sam's to make sure he had a good grip. Just then, the sound of several leaves and small twigs crackling split the night air. Dean jerked his head, ordering Sam to get behind him, leaning around the thick tree after Sam complied.

 

In the stark, white light of the nearly full moon, a man was moving at a loping gait, as if he was injured. His breathing was labored, almost congested. Dean kept his gun up, remembering his father's rule to never trust appearances, and began to approach the man. The man stopped moving completely, went stone still, when he saw Dean come from behind the tree.

 

"Sir, are you alright--" Dean's words halted when the man's eyes caught moonlight and flashed a mesmerizing electric blue. The light also caught gleaming, sharp canine teeth from between which a vicious snarl was coming. 

 

The man bent forward and lunged after Dean, who fired one, two shots as he backed away, managing to clip the creature's shoulder with one of the shots. It shrieked with a surprisingly human voice and gripped it's shoulder for a moment, before pulling the bullet out roughly, the hole closing up like the skin had never been pierced. The heel of Dean's foot slipped on a large root, and he fell backward, the air knocked out of him momentarily.

 

"Sam, run!" Dean grunted out, fumbling for his gun for a moment before grabbing it tight and pointing the barrel of his gun at the creature, who snarled again and knocked the the gun out of Dean's hand. It wrapped it's claws in the front of Dean's t-shirt and lifted him up off the ground, its jaws parted and bared for Dean's neck.

 

"Dean, no!!" Sam shouted in fear, finally breaking the silence.

 

The creature's gaze flickered to Sam, and a grimace that might've been a smile cut across it's face as it took in the sight of Sam within it's electric blue eyes, practically glowing in the night. It tossed Dean to the side, knocking him against a tree. It's claws began clicking together and a bit of saliva began drizzling down it's parted lips as it began to step languidly towards Sam, Dean completely forgotten.

 

Sam swallowed down horror, his eyes wide as he turned the silver knife over and over again in his hands, his legs parted in a crouch in preparation for whatever was about to happen. The creature snarled loudly at Sam, and in reaction he lunged forward with the knife, slicing it lightly across the neck. It's skin hissed, the wound smoking from the contact with the blade. It staggered backward, glaring at Sam wildly.

 

A loud roaring erupted from the right of them and a two bright lights flashed into existence over a hill as the Impala raced through the clearing. The creature flinched back from the noise and light and took off into the trees as the Impala drew closer. It came to a stop a few feet away from where Dean was crawling to his feet, not bothering to dust himself off as he hurried to Sam's side. Sam, who was staring into the dark trees after where the creature had made it's exit, was shaking and gripping onto the silver blade tightly didn't notice his brother's presence. He grabbed Sam by the face, trying to get him to look him in the eyes, but Sam's eyes were unfocused, empty. It scared the fuck out of Dean.

 

"Sam" Dean said, as John made his way over. He gave Sam a little shake before smacking him across the face when he gave no response. Sam whipped his face toward Dean and his father, dropping his knife and stepping back a little.

 

There was a brief moment that Sam had a frantic look on his face, as if he was expecting the werewolf to jump out at any moment. He looked at Dean as if he was about to jump into his older brother's arms before he caught sight of John and stopped, stepping away.

 

"Sam--" Dean said, confused and a little hurt that Sam was backing away from him.

 

John reached out to Sam's shoulder, watching him carefully. "Son, are you--" 

 

Sam jerked away from him, his expression now blank, his eyes deflecting. "I'm fine.." he muttered, walking away from them toward the Impala. Dean watched after him, confusion and worry multiplying at Sam's cold attitude.

 

"Any injuries?" John said, giving Dean a once-over. Dean gave his head a little shake. John narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "You alright, son?"

 

"Fine. Just peachy." Dean said, just as short as Sam had been with him, which had John's eyebrows raising. "-Sir" Dean added, giving him a terse cursory glance and following Sam to the Impala. 

 

John sighed and picked up Sam's bloody silver knife, examining it in the headlights. It caught a glare from the moon overhead and John froze as the whispers of legends flittered through his ear in the warm night breeze.

 

"Jesus…"

 

**********

 

Dean just wanted to grab Sam and hold him so close that he had to be begged to let go so his little brother could breathe. His skin was practically screaming with relief and adrenaline now that Sam was safe in the Impala with him. His body was tired, sore and nasty from sparring and fighting that damned fucker with rabies, but all he could think about was Sam. He'd opted to sit in the backseat, reveling in the presence of the lanky, grumpy, currently distant teenager beside him. Dean was pretty sure Sam was still in shock, but he could deal with that. He was pretty sure he was the only one who could.

 

It had been an awkward, quiet hour drive back to the hotel, to say the least, in the aftermath of that evening's events. Their father had neglected to play any music and didn't exactly seem like his mind was there. His gaze was out the windshield, cold and calculating. Dean was used to feeling locked out of his father's thoughts and, considering he was seriously pissed off at him, he was fine with that. It wasn't often that Dean was this angry towards John, but when he was, it was always something to do with Sam.

 

He'd neglected to get Sam new school clothes. He'd been away so long, Dean'd had to go get food for him. He was so fucking drunk out of his mind that Dean had to make sure Sammy got his bath and got into bed. Those memories paled in comparison. Dean trusted their father above all to keep them safe. So what if every now and then that got Dean hurt? That was something he could deal with. It wasn't exactly safe, doing what they did. But, from the very moment that he'd announced that Sam would be joining them on hunts from now on, Dean's very being protested. It reeked of "Sammy unsafe. Sammy in danger. Sammy near pain. Sammy near death" and Dean didn't like it. He preferred Sam doing the research back at the hotel room and worrying about him and his father. It was a hell of a lot better than his scrawny ass being on the front-lines.

 

But, now their father had gone and dragged Sam into the same shit that Dean had been graciously welcomed into when he was 14 with the sawed-off he'd made on his own. But, Dean had been doing it with the mind of saving Sammy, protecting Sammy. This was like punishment for Sam, Dean realized, glaring at the man in the driver's seat. This was cruel and it made Dean furious. His Sammy had almost gotten hurt.

 

Dean froze at that thought. The thought of Sam being "his", and how it made his stomach curl up in heat like scraps of paper in a fire. He glanced over at Sam across the back seat. Sam wasn't looking out the window into the night, watching the darkness pass by as he normally did, but looking into his hands like they were the most frustrating and confusing things he'd ever seen. The moonlight through the window reflected up into his eyes and Dean only saw a veil of hurt over Sam's blue-hued irises.

 

Sam jumped when he felt Dean's hand on his forearm, gripping it slightly. 

 

"Sammy.." Dean whispered softly.

 

He turned to look over at his older brother and saw the concern in the pale green eyes across from him. It warmed his heart a little and shook him from the sheer terror that had begun to swallow him over the past hour and a half. That creature almost hurt Dean. Almost killed Dean. All because Sam had been a pussy and ran away when he'd gotten hard like a moron. If he hadn't run, Dean wouldn't have had to come looking and they wouldn't be near the thing in the first place. And then, Sam had barely been able to fight it. It could've killed them both and Sam wouldn't have been able to do a damn thing about it cause he was scared shitless. It infuriated him.

 

The car came to a halt outside their hotel, pulling Sam out of his reverie. He met Dean's eyes briefly, which had been watching him intently, before pulling away and getting out of the car. Dean watched him walk towards their door and leaning against it, waiting for someone to unlock. Dean turned toward his father when he heard jingling and the keys to their new hotel room dangled out towards him. Dean took them and got out of the car before turning back to his father.

 

"Where are you going, then?" Dean said, nearly failing to keep the accusatory tone out of his voice.

 

John gave him a quick assessing look. "To get us food and supplies" he said. "I'll be back later, you boys get some rest. Long day tomorrow"

 

Dean nodded and started toward the hotel room, before his father called his name. Dean sighed softly and turned back.

 

"I swear I didn't know that thing was out there with you" John said, dark eyes holding Dean's. "You know I'd never purposefully put you and your brother in danger."

 

Dean swallowed, nodded once. "I'm fine. Sam's fine. That's all that matters, right?" 

 

His father nodded back to him and watched him for a moment before pulling out of the parking lot and driving off. Dean turned and walked across the warm, dewy parking lot and stepped up to the door, Sam moving out of his way as he did. He glanced over at Sam as he unlocked the door, watching him as he looked down at his feet. Once the door was opened, Sam stepped in first, Dean following and he watched as Sam subtly hurried to turn on all the lights in the room. 

 

"I know how you feel.." Dean said, suddenly, a ghost of a sad smile on his face. Sam froze, listening with his hand on the last lamp, just having flicked it on. "After being out there in the dark with… with God knows what the hell that was.. it's like you can't get enough light."

 

Dean's slight smile faded and he walked towards his younger brother, his big brother instincts taking over. Sam snapped out of it then, hearing Dean approach, and walked around Dean to the bathroom, closing the door and locking it behind him. He faced the sink and looked into the mirror above it. It wasn't five seconds later that Dean was knocking on the door softly. "Sam" he said. "Sammy, come on. Let me in."

 

Sam replied by turning the sink on all the way, drowning out Dean's voice with the hiss of water shooting into the porcelain. He watched his reflection in the mirror, blank expression, as it disappeared beneath the fog of steam that billowed up from the porcelain. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the steamy air.

 

Dean sighed and backed away from the door, walking over to his duffel laying on the floor and pulled out a change of clothes. Maybe Sammy wouldn't be too pissed to leave him some hot water so he could get a somewhat decent shower. He sat down on one of the two beds in the bedroom (which he and Sam would inevitably be sharing, his mind supplied, much to his dissipating displeasure) and cradled his head in his hands as he let out a deep sigh. How was he supposed to help Sam when he wouldn't even talk to him?

 

When Dean had started hunting, he'd began drinking to deal with it or fucking random waitresses. His father didn't care, and didn't very well have a right to as he did the same thing with his own whiskey. But he refused to let Sam stray down that same path. He deserved better. So, Dean decided, he'd just have to break out the tampons and talk about it and just deal with the chick flick moment. 

 

In the darkness behind Sam's eyelids, he could almost envision himself back in that forest, paralyzed with fear as he heard the howling of that creature, just before Dean started yelling his name. Training told Sam to keep his mouth shut and find Dean but Dean would ignore his training if it meant he was in danger. So he hurried to find Dean and shut him up. Then he did, and it was like as soon as he was back with Dean, he forgot everything. All his training. All he could think was "big brother. I'm safe now. Dean will protect me. Safe." Then that thing had thrown Dean and come after him and Sam had been barely able to protect himself.

 

His mind strayed to what would have happened if his father hadn't pulled up at that moment.. He could feel the warm, humid air dewing on his skin along with beads of sweat as he backed away from the creature. Dean would've jumped up and onto it's back, no doubt, and told Sam to run. Sam would have the instinct to run, but would ignore it, petrified at leaving Dean, so he'd have tried to attack the creature again. He pictured it cutting through his thin t-shirt and knocking him to the ground before throwing Dean off and… blood.. 

 

Sam's eyes snapped open and he saw his fogged, blurred reflection in the mirror of his extremely hot bathroom for just a moment before his stomach churned and he stumbled to the toilet and emptied his stomach into it. He coughed for a moment before a wave of despair and horror came over him from the events his mind had conjured and he let out a sob.

 

Dean had just taken his dirtied muscle shirt off when he heard it, the soft catch of breath just barely audible over the hiss of water coming from the bathroom. Sammy was hurt. He rushed over to the bathroom door and knocked, trying to calm the big brother instincts threatening to knock the door open.

 

"Sam, are you alright? Please open the door, man" Dean said, trying to keep from sounding too pleading. No answer came, but he heard another sob on the other side of the door. "Fuck it"

 

Dean rushed over to his duffel, pulled out his lock-picking set and made quick work of the bathroom door, pushing it open as soon as he heard the lock click open. Steam billowed out of the room from the sink before him, making the room thick and murky with heat. He glanced over and saw Sam lying against the toilet, head on his arms. 

 

"Sam!" he yelled, hurrying over to Sam's side and dropped to his knees, pulling him into his lap. Sam felt the heat of warm arms wrapping around him, and the feel of warm skin against his back. The scent of sweat and leather and familiar musk that felt like home. He felt himself leaning into the heat until he saw it was Dean and then, immediately tried to get away from him.

 

"Let--let go of me!" Sam shouted, speaking for the first time since the attack, pushing away and scrambling to his feet.

 

"Sam, what the hell is going on?" Dean said, following him out of the bathroom, turning off the faucet as he did. "Why are you acting like.. like you're scared of me or something?"

 

Sam stopped in front of the door, and Dean tensed. "Don't you even think about walking out that door, or I swear to God, I'll beat your moody ass into the ground. No more running away." He sounded like an ass, chewing on Sam after his first hunt and nearly getting killed, but damn it, enough was enough.

 

Sam turned around and Dean nearly flinched back from the look of cold fury that Sam had on his face. "Stop telling me what to do, Dean. Just stop!" Sam shouted. "How am I supposed to grow up, if you keep treating me like a kid brother?!"

 

"Then, stop acting like a fucking child" Dean said, coolly, crossing his arms.

 

Sam's jaw clenched as he gritted his teeth in anger, glaring daggers at Dean. "You wanna know what my problem is?" Sam said, seething. "I nearly lost you tonight because I was such a pussy. Because I was such a scared little kid." 

 

Tears were beginning to fall down Sam's cheeks now as he noticed the discoloration across Dean's tanned abdomen, stretching to his back, where the creature had thrown him against a tree. "And all I could think about… was for you to get up, to save me. Like I was… helpless"

 

Dean didn't like the way Sam was talking. The way Sam said the last word with such disgust, like he and the word were one and the same. He closed the distance between them, expecting Sam to fight him when he wrapped his arms around him but relaxing when he didn't. Sam did sink into the comfort and warmth this time, laying his head against Dean's bare chest as his tears fell against it. Dean hugged him closer and closed his eyes in the comfort of the familiar position they were in.

 

"I was terrified, Dean.." Sam said, softly. "I've never been so scared in my life."

 

"I know, Sammy. I know" Dean said, just as softly. "I was, too. I was afraid that I wouldn't find you in time. Afraid that whatever was out there had…" He stopped and shook away the fear that had begun to take him over. "But we're okay. We're okay now. That's all that matters."

 

Sam pulled back slightly and looked up at Dean with big eyes. "I.. I don't know if I can do this, Dean" Sam said. "I don't--I don't think I'm strong enough."

 

"You can, Sammy" Dean said, firmly, encouragingly. "I know you can. You're a Winchester."

 

Sam snorted slightly and couldn't help the small smile that came across his face. "That's what you say everything I say I can't do something" Sam said. 

 

Dean smiled at the bit of the old Sam that had come back, moving Sam's bangs out of his face, before sighing. "When I was fourteen, and me and Dad went on our first hunt…" Dean began, hesitantly. "I froze up"

 

Sam watched Dean's face with trepidation and waited for him to continue. "We, uh, were hunting a wending and he'd told me to stay close" Dean said, before clearing his throat. "I took my eyes off him for one second and suddenly I was alone in the cold, dark woods by myself. I honestly started to freak the hell out." Dean chuckled in embarrassment, but Sam smiled encouragingly, understanding how he felt.

 

"Well, I stayed calm until the fugly thing came out from this thicket and started to chase me." Dean said, his eyes distant as he remembered that night before grinning widely. "Dad got him though. Smoked the son of a bitch like barbecue."

 

Dean closed his eyes and shook his head a little before looking back down at Sam. "So, don't beat yourself up, Sammy" Dean said. "The first few hunts are always a little touch and go. It could've been a lot worse. Really."

 

Sam smiled genuinely now at Dean's words and hugged him close again, pressing a kiss to Dean's bare chest. "Thanks, Dean" Sam said, before he realized the gravity of what he'd done, blushing a bit. "I, uh, think I'm gonna go on to bed now"

 

Dean felt heat spreading from the spot where Sam's lips had touched and he scratched his neck, stepping towards the bathroom as Sam walked toward the bed. "Yeah, uh, shower for me." 

 

Sam watched as Dean walked into the bathroom before letting out a loud sigh as soon as the door closed, throwing himself onto the bed. 

 

Dean leaned against the door for a moment, closing eyes eyes and reliving the moment of Sam's lips touching his bare skin, feeling the blood rush south. He'd been thinking about Sam's lips since Flagstaff. He'd denied it to Sam, and dealt with it in the privacy of bathrooms. The fact that it was his little brother that got him going didn't even register with him at the moment. 

 

"Gotta take care of this" Dean said, looking down at the bulge forming in his jeans. 

 

He turned the faucet on in the shower and unzipped his jeans, shucking them along with his briefs before stepping into the spray of hot water. He unwrapped the teeny bar of soap that came with the bathroom and lathered down his chest, before moving it downward into the thatch of coarse hair and around his hardened dick, closing his eyes as he did and leaning against the shower wall.

 

Sam heard the shower turn on and he groaned slightly, closing his eyes and thinking of Dean's wet, naked body underneath it. He'd been so dumb to kiss Dean's chest like that, but it'd been done before he could think about it. Like it was instinct. He'd longed for more, longed to finish what he'd started out in the forest that afternoon. He remembered the feel of Dean's body beneath him, all that hot, tight muscle. The feel of Dean's soft skin and muscled chest against him just moments ago. 

 

He let his right hand slid down his abdomen, imagining it was Dean's hand as he did. His hand slipped beneath waistband of his jeans and boxers and into the curls of hair nestling his quickly filling cock. He wrapped a hand around the heated column of muscle and skin and slowly stroked downward. "Oh, Dean…" he moaned, softly.

 

Dean ran his soap-slicked hand over his balls and under, rubbing the stretch of skin behind his balls for a moment before moving back to his dick, giving it a long stroke. He imagined Sam's lightly muscled body in the shower with him, on his knees before Dean, lips wrapped around Dean's cock. "Yeah, Sammy… Like that." he whispered. 

 

He sped up a little, moving his other hand behind his balls to rub a little as he stroked. Dean imagined Sam's hazel eyes looking up at him and smiling as he sucked lightly on his dick, before taking it deeper down his throat. He groaned softly at the thought.

 

Sam's breath caught in his throat as his imagination took hold, imagining Dean's short wet hair, his heat-pinkened cheeks making his green eyes even brighter. His hands caressing Sam's wet body as his perfect, cupid's bow lips wrapped around Sam, taking him in deep and bobbing up and down. He could almost hear Dean moaning around it in pleasure. Wow, he actually could really hear it. The sound of the moan brought him so close, he was panting, pressure building in his abdomen.

 

Dean was fully leaning against the wall of the shower now, one hand quickly stroking his cock and the other now rising up chest to pinch a reddened nipple. He bit down on his bottom lip hard to keep back a loud moan. He imagined thrusting into Sam's mouth, hands wrapped in his wet hair as he did, speeding toward ecstasy. 

 

He saw Sam's hand stroking his own cock as he went down on Dean, moaning loudly, before he shot his own load everywhere. Dean's stomach tightened, balls drawing up and he shot his load all over the shower curtain. Dean laid his head back against the wall, closing his eyes as the warm water slowly got colder. "Shit…" he panted softly.

 

Sam was panting like he'd been running a marathon now. His legs slowly rose until his knees were bent and his hips canted upwards, thrusting into his hand in his jeans as he stroked himself. He saw Dean lift wrap his legs around his neck and lift him up against the shower wall, taking him in all the way. Sam let out a soft moan as he came, warm pulses shooting into his hand inside his pants.

 

"Aww man…" Sam panted, looking down. "Good thing I have laundry duty this week, I guess."

 

**********

 

John sat at the booth in the back of the bar, glass of whiskey to his right and his journal in front of him, newspaper clippings spread out in front of him. It didn't matter where he went, there was always a bar nearby where he could just sit and sink into thought without distraction. That was probably more thanks to the whiskey than anything. He could focus fully on the case in front of him and things that used to be hidden would be brought to light in the dimness of some hole in the wall. Never failed.

 

But the creature he saw tonight… It was impossible. He'd heard murmurs and urban legends over the past few years but had never actually seen one. They were supposed to be the things of lore, of horror movies. But then again, so had everything else they hunted. Everything pointed toward it: the full moon, the creature's anatomy, the silver blade harming it. It was a werewolf.

 

Reality was quickly becoming something that ceased to exist to John Winchester. 20 years ago, if someone had told him that things like demons, vampires and werewolves existed, he'd have laughed in their face and told them to get some help. If he'd had a dime for every time that' d happened to him since he'd begun hunting.

 

"Another murder? Hey, turn that up!" Someone shouted. John looked up toward the TV as the bartender turned up the volume.

 

A picture of a vaguely familiar young man was on one side of the screen, a female correspondent in a dark, wooded area surrounded by flashing emergency lights on the other. 

 

"The body was found in a ditch near a heavily wooded area off Ball Camp pike by a trucker driving by. 29-year-old Steven Hartfield died in the same brutal, animalistic way that a young woman found in a hotel in Sevierville. Steven Hartfield was the brother of fairly famous Knoxville lawyer, Russ Hartfield.."

 

John stood up as he realized where he knew Steven from. He was the second victim tied to Russ Hartfield. He was also the werewolf from the woods earlier tonight, their only lead, and was now dead.


	4. Against The Wall

  
Author's notes: HUGE gracias to my beta, Lisbeths'Dream, who stayed up WAY past her bedtime to go over this chapter. I still take complete credit for any screwups cause we both stayed up really late lol. Hope you enjoy! XO, A  


* * *

Sam didn't remember how the hell he'd ended up back in the forest by himself, all he knew is that he didn't like it. Not one bit. It was hot. Like, really hot even though the sun had clearly long been down. He had been running so long and so hard, he felt like he was breathing in fiery razors, his lungs protesting the exertion. He whipped around and pressed himself up against a tree, trying desperately to quieten his breathing. He looked up into the skies and was frantic to find that there were no stars but the single source of light coming from the bright, huge moon between the trees. It lit up the night in a reversed daylight, where everything turned eerie and horrifying.

 

The howl cut through the warm night air, slicing into Sam's core and sending chills down his spine. He felt panic begin bubbling up in his chest as he held onto his knife tightly. Where the hell was Dean? He needed him here now. Right now. His frantic thoughts were interrupted by a snarling nearby, behind the tree he was leaning against. The trees around Sam seemed to sneak away, bending apart and away to reveal him to the monster seeking his blood.

 

Sam jumped away from the tree just as it began to move and held the silver blade of his knife out toward the creature. The thing's face was shadowed but for the most part looked human apart from the inch-long claws and the guttural growling coming out of it's hidden mouth. Sam backed up, breathing calmly and deeply as he kept his knife out towards the beast. He kept his training in mind, which only served to bring Dean back to mind. Where the hell was he?

 

At that moment, creature lunged forward, catching Sam around the waist and knocking him into the dirt and leaves on the forest floor. He kicked forward with both feet, throwing the creature back off him. It landed back on it's hind feet, skidding backward slightly and crouched forward again. Sam scrambled to his feet and took off running in the opposite direction. It wasn't until after he was in a quick sprint that realized he'd lost the damn silver blade in the tumble to ground. And now, to top it all off, the trees that had been moving away from him to reveal him to the creature was now stepping into his way to stop him.

 

Christ Almighty, this just wasn't his day.

 

Sam just barely missed a length of a root when something less solid caught his foot, sending him tumbling forward once again face-first into the musty, rotten leaves on the ground. He quickly wiped the wet grime from his face and sat up, trying to see if the creature was closing in on him when something caught his eye. In the moonlight, a glint of green was shining beside him. Two glints of green that were the still, open eyes of his older brother; shining from the pale, beautiful face he knew so well. 

 

"Dean!" He gasped, his voice choked in his throat.

 

Sam's entire body froze up in terror and grief, breath coming out in short pants of shock as his eyes dragged their way up his brother's bloody corpse, stopping back at his pale face. A snarling noise from above him pulled his attention back from his brother's lifeless body, to see the blood-covered teeth of the creature coming for him.

 

Sam caught his breath in a gasp, eyes snapping open and wildly looking around the hotel room. He panted quietly, trying to catch his breath and calm himself from the nightmare. He wasn't alone in that forest, he was here in the quiet, dark hotel room, lying next to his brother and to his father in the other bed, who'd apparently come in sometime after he'd passed out. Dean was lying sprawled out on his stomach to Sam's left, back rising and falling to his slow breathing. Not dead. He was just fine.

 

Sam reached across the mattress and laid a shaky hand on Dean's back, closing his eyes to the warmth and thanking God that it was just a horrible dream. He realized then he was covered in sweat, his long bangs dripping it cold onto his face. He reached up with both hands and wiped the sweat from his face. He looked over again at Dean, still making sure that he was really there and really alive, before slowly sliding back the cover on his side of the bed and slipping out.

 

Sam padded quietly to the bathroom, closing the door softly behind him and turning on the light as fast as he could, fearing the darkness by himself. He laid his head against the back of the door for a moment and breathed in deeply before letting out a shaky breath. "Jesus…" he said, softly. "This has to stop."

 

He walked over to the sink and turned the faucet on, letting the cool water run over his hands for a moment before leaning toward the sink and splashing some of it onto his face. The dream was a culmination of all his fears that had sprung up earlier that night: of being alone, of that horrifying creature and of Dean's death. And now, Sam was sure he was going to have nightmares for awhile. He knew he was a little traumatized, but he didn't have the time to waste for it. He was a Winchester. He needed to get over this.

 

Sam turned the water off and blindly grabbed a towel hanging from the rack nearby, wiping his face off slowly and sighing into it. He looked into the mirror and gasped, seeing Dean's reflection in the doorway behind him, squinting sleepily at him. Dean rubbed his eyes for a moment before closing the door behind him just as softly as Sam had done and turning to give him a quick once-over with sleepy green eyes. He crossed his arms over his bare chest and looked Sam square in the eyes.

 

"Nightmare?" Dean mumbled quietly.

 

"I see that Dad made it back before dawn" Sam said jokingly attempting a change of subject, although the shaky voice ruined it.

 

"Yeah, he got in around 2 or so" Dean said, a bit of annoyance in his tone, but his expression said he wouldn't be deterred from the real issue.

 

Sam nodded, watching his brother calmly.

 

"Talk" was all Dean said, gravelly voice breaking the quiet of the small bathroom.

 

Sam had to take a moment before actually speaking, afraid of what would come out. Dean looked damn sexy with only a pair of boxers on, riding a little low on his hips. The rest of his bare skin was all smooth, tan muscle in the fluorescent light of the bathroom. To top it all off, his sleep-mussed hair that sprung out in every direction had Sam stepping forward to tangle his fingers through it before he knew it.

 

"Sam?" Dean said, stopping him in his tracks again. He was watching him with a curious look on his face, most likely wondering what the hell his little brother was doing acting like even more of a weirdo than usual. Sam stepped back then, hands behind his back against the cool porcelain sink.

 

"Yeah, alright. I had a bad dream.. No big deal" Sam said, lowering his gaze to the dirty tiled floor. Huge deal, actually. Worst dream he'd ever had in all his fourteen years was more like it.

 

Dean inclined his head, eyes still assessing Sam for a moment before nodding slightly. "Wanna tell me what it was about?"

 

"Not really" Sam said, just as soon as Dean had the words out of his mouth, earning him a set of narrowed, suspicious eyes. He should've known that wouldn't cut it. He sighed, before rubbing a hand over his eyes. "It was about tonight. I was alone, and the creature was after me, and… you'd gotten hurt. Really badly."

 

Dean closed his eyes, nodding in understanding. "I'm sorry, kiddo."

 

He should've known Sam would have nightmares after all the crap that had happened earlier that night. The kid had nightmares after watching scary movies, for Christ sakes. Tonight, he'd actually lived one, and barely made it through alive. His fists clenched in anxiety at the memory. He opened his eyes again and caught Sam's worried gaze on him now. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them and wrapping his arms around Sam's lanky, skinny body. "It was just a dream, Sammy" Dean said, softly. "I'm okay. You're okay."

 

Sam relaxed into his embrace, bringing his own arms around Dean's waist and trying to ignore what the body heat did to his own body, not to mention the fact that it was Dean's body heat. Dean couldn't believe how much Sam had grown in just a month. Already, the top of Sam's head met Dean's nose, making it all too easy for him to breathe in his scent, which he loved so much. Too much.

 

"Jeez, Sammy, when did you start getting tall?" Dean grumbled, but not moving or removing his arms from around Sam. "Little brother ain't so little anymore."

 

Sam pulled back with a smirk and looked up into Dean's eyes. "So how bout you stop calling me 'kiddo' and 'Sammy' now, huh?"

 

Dean smiled shaking his head with a light chuckle. "Kiddo I can let go…" Dean said, before brushing back Sam's bangs to look him in the eyes. "But you'll always be Sammy to me"

 

Sam smiled up at him, seeing the warmth and love coming from his oder brother so unabashedly. He couldn't help it. There was no way he could convince himself while Dean looked at him like that, that there was nothing more than brotherly love between them. Before he knew it, he was leaning closer to Dean, tilting his head upward. He glanced between Dean's gorgeous, full lips and Dean's eyes, which were watching Sam's lips nervously. It was ridiculous how it always seemed like the first time between them, when this was the third time now that they'd been in this position. Never got old. They were close enough now that they were breathing the same air, passing it between lips. Sam sealed the distance, pressing his lips against Dean's.

 

After a few seconds, his older brother finally responded, bringing his hands around Sam's face to cradle it in his palms. One hand got twisted in Sam's messy hair, while the other went to the back of Sam's neck, keeping him anchored to Dean's lips. Sam stopped resisting the urge to run his fingers through Dean's hair, carding through the short locks and drawing a soft gasp from his older brother. Dean pressed Sam up against the wall quietly, lining up their hips and giving a slow roll, putting friction between their growing hardness. They both gasped out softly at the pleasure between them. This was a new part of it, Sam realized with an internal groan. They'd never done this before.

 

"Sam--" Dean mumbled between kisses, even though he still wasn't letting go. In fact, he gave another roll of his hips, eyes fluttering with pleasure from the delicious burn between them. Sam mumbled something in reply against Dean's lips, not even really hearing him. He finally pulled his hand out of Sam's hair and moved both of them to Sam's shoulders, pushing them apart. He stood with his arms out for a moment, panting, face flushed and green eyes dark with lust. Finally, he straightened up and turned to the door.

 

"Dean--" Sam said, but was cut off with a hand out in his direction, a clear direction not to speak. Dean opened the bathroom door and stepped out, closing it behind him. The bathroom was once more just as silent as it had been before Dean even entered, making Sam wonder for just a moment if it had all been some really amazing fantasy conjured up in his head.

 

No, he thought, bringing his fingers up and running them across his swollen lips. That had definitely happened. Dean had definitely made out with him in the bathroom of their hotel room, and then left without a word. Sam had never been such a mix of happy, pissed off, confused, irritated, dismayed and turned-on at the same time. But, mostly pissed. He turned off the light, opened the bathroom door and slipped back under the covers, trying to ignore the fact that Dean was right there next to him.

 

Dean listened to Sam sigh and turn over on the mattress behind him. His thoughts were moving at light speed and it wasn't bringing sleep to him quicker. He closed his eyes tight and tried to fight the headache he felt coming on. Once again, he had kissed Sam. No, had made out with Sam. Made out with Sam, his younger brother and liked it. Like, there was no longer traces of reservation or guilt about it. He just knew he couldn't do it.

 

Dean believed in Hell. He'd seen demons erupt in a cloud of smoke from some poor bastard's meat suit on several occasion, and the victim rarely made it. Had seen the horrifying things possessed people could do, all because of some evil creature. So he believed that he could seriously go to Hell for kissing his brother, and that's definitely not what he wanted to stop at. And if he could go to Hell for it, Sam could. So he couldn't do it anymore. Couldn't let his feelings for Sam get out of control again.

 

**********

 

Sam was shaken awake by Dean in a less than gentle way than he would've liked. He looked across the bed at the clock on the bedside table and saw that somehow he'd been allowed to sleep till nearly noon. He sat up slowly, groaning and stretching, before scowling at Dean, who was sitting at the end of the bed pulling on a t-shirt. Their father sat at a table across the room near the window, cleaning his guns and paying them no attention. Everything was a lot more quiet than usual, and not a good kind. It was filled with tension; tension between, strangely, Dean and their father, and it had Sam on edge. He looked back over at Dean and saw that he was staring their father down, irritation in his eyes, his jaw tightened.

 

Never in his life had Sam ever even seen Dean give their father an angry look, and now he could see Dean practically glaring daggers at the man. He wasn't used to this kind of behavior, and he really didn't know how to react. Dean noticed Sam watching him and cut his eyes toward him. "You gonna go get a shower, or are you gonna gawk at me?" Dean said, a bit of agitation slipping into his voice.

 

John looked up from his guns for a moment, glancing between them, before going back to his business. Sam blushed slightly and got out of bed, awkwardly walking between the line of sight Dean had on their father, who was still oblivious to everything but his guns. Sam rummaged through his duffel and pulled out some clean clothes, before walking to the bathroom, glancing back at his father and brother one more time before closing the bathroom door behind him.

 

As soon as Dean heard the shower come on, he cleared his throat after lacing up his boots and turned toward his father. "Find anything useful last night?" Dean said, keeping his voice calm and cool.

 

John glanced over at Dean after putting his guns back together and nodded once. "As a matter of fact, I think I've figured out what it is we're dealing with."

 

Dean wasn't surprised, kept his on his interlocked fingers. "Really? What is it?"

 

"Werewolf"

 

Now, Dean was surprised, his eyebrows raising as he looked over at his father. "A werewolf? Like, an actual, changes-during-the-full-moon, silver bullet werewolf? Thought those were just scary movies."

 

John shook his head, laying his guns on the table, and reaching into his duffle bag for his suit. "Very much real, I'm afraid. And extremely deadly" John said. "I'm going to go talk to a lawyer who was seeing the prostitute who died. His brother was that werewolf last night. They found him dead in the woods."

 

"Okay. So.. what do you want me to do?" Dean said.

 

"I want you and Sam to--"

 

"No" Dean said, meeting his father's eyes. "What do you want me to do? Leave Sam out of it." 

 

He had never challenged his father on anything before. Anything. And now, he was honestly nervous about what the consequences would be. He stood his ground as his father narrowed his eyes. "I'm the one who makes the decision around here, Dean" John said. "Or have you forgotten that?"

 

"No, sir" Dean said, trying to remain calm, but could hear his voice raising. "It was your decision to bring Sam into hunting, I haven't forgotten that. But with all due respect, It was also that decision that nearly got him killed last night."

 

John's eyebrows shot up in surprise at Dean's words. His oldest had never spoken against him before. "Tonight is the last night of the full moon and we need him. We'll have to wait a month if we don't gank this thing tonight. We can't afford that." 

 

He watched Dean for a moment before speaking again. "You've been in this long enough to know the risks of this job, Dean. Death is one of them. Sam has to learn that, too. He'll get better."

 

"No, he'll get killed" Dean said, a little louder now, gritting his teeth. He pointed a finger at his father, stepping closer to him. "You weren't there. You didn't see him freeze up when that thing came at him. If you hadn't have shown up when you did--"

 

"But, I did, Dean." John said, his voice rising to match Dean's now. "Sam will do better next time, and maybe you'll learn to do a better job of keeping your brother safe."

 

Dean's jaw dropped, eyes widened in outrage, he opened his mouth to yell again but was interrupted.

 

"It wasn't Dean's fault."

 

John and Dean both turned to face Sam, who was standing fully dressed with his arms crossed in front of the bathroom door, his moppy hair still damp. 

 

Dean, while grateful for Sam sticking up for him, didn't want to bring him into this. "Sam, don't--"

 

"No, I'm tired of being treated like a fucking infant", Sam said, glaring at both of them. 

 

Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam's anger being directed towards him as well as their father. He saw something cold in Sam's eyes that said this anger wasn't just about what he and their father had been talking about. This was about last night, too. He pressed his lips into a hard line and scowled at Sam. John, oblivious, simply mirrored Sam's pose, inclining his head and crossing him arms.

 

"Dad, it wasn't Dean's fault that we nearly died, we were taken by surprise" Sam said, before turning on Dean. "And did you forget that I saved both of our asses when I stabbed the damn thing with my knife?"

 

Dean looked away from Sam's gaze, crossing his arms and keeping his face hard as stone. John, however, remained impassive. 

 

"Now, I may have been scared shitless, but damn it, I can hunt" Sam said, calmer now. "So what do you need us to do, Dad?" Sam put the emphasis on us, meeting Dean's eyes when he did. Dean narrowed his own eyes, glaring at Sam.

 

John looked him over for a moment before reaching behind him and throwing Dean another duffel bag neither of them had seen before. It clanked as if filled with a bunch of metal when it landed in Dean's arms, his brother not even letting out a breath from catching the weight. 

 

"I need you two to make us some silver bullets" John said, as he began dressing himself in his federal agent suit. When he finished, he turned to them one last time before walking out the door. "One way or another, we're hunting that damned thing down tonight. I'm not letting this go on any longer."

 

Sam ignored the furious look Dean shot him as their father walked out the door.

 

**********

 

Russ Hartfield's home may not have been a mansion, but it was, by no means, small. A two-story, white-paneled house with a garage connected to it, surrounded by tall green oaks, set in a very nice upper-class neighborhood. The man had clearly earned his status as one of the best lawyers inTennessee. John couldn't help but scoff at the thought as he drove into the driveway, making sure he had his badge ready and that he didn't stink of whiskey. 

 

He walked up the concrete path lined with carefully pruned shrubs to the front door and knocked. As he waited, he looked around the front yard. It was perfectly manicured and the brightest green. He stepped away from the front door and observed the front of the house. He saw a series of scratches near the bottom of a window on the left side of the top floor. The front door opened and he turned to face fairly disheveled Russ Hartfield. He was still dress in his bathrobe and slippers and his hair was unkempt, his eyes red and puffy. 

 

"Can I help you?" He croaked, his voice thick with tears.

 

"Yes, sir, I'm sorry to bother you in this time of loss" John said, pulling out his badge. "I'm Detective Young. I'd like to ask you a few questions about your brother."

 

"Again?" the man squinted at him, a miserable look in his eyes. "Listen, I've already spoken to one officer last night, and I'd just really like to be alone with my grief."

 

"I understand, sir" John said, making sure to keep a sensitive tone and a calm demeanor. "But this is crucial to finding out what happened to your brother. We believe he's the latest victim in a series of murders."

 

The man's puffy eyes widened in fear and disbelief. "Those murders across Tennessee I've been hearing about?"

 

John nodded. "His death matches the description of the others. We just would like to know why he was attacked."

 

The man looked distant for a moment, before shaking himself out of his thoughts and opening the door wider. "Yes, well.." Hartfield said. "Come in, but excuse the mess. My wife hasn't been well enough to clean lately, in fact, she's at the hospital for a check-up right now."

 

John looked around the house as he followed the somber man. The foyer was disheveled with coats and shoes and umbrellas and the kitchen wasn't much better. The sink and counters were crowded with dirty dishes and old food that was just beginning to smell. Hartfield stopped near the coffee pot and poured himself a cup of it before glancing at John and pouring another for him. 

 

"Thank you" John said, taking the mug from him and following him to the dining table. It looked as if it hadn't been used in a while, the china and silverware covered in a slight layer of dust. The bay window on the other side of the table let in more sunlight than the rest of the house saw, causing Hartfield to squint slightly as he took a sip of his coffee.

 

"So" John said, after taking a drink of his own coffee. "When was the last time you'd seen your brother, Mr. Hartfield?"

 

The man cleared his throat before speaking. "Last week, I think it was" he said, wearily. "We were out having drinks, meeting up after my business trip. He wanted to know if he could use the family cabin in the mountains for the weekend. I told him I didn't mind. My wife, Hilary, and I rarely go there anymore. She goes to clean it up every now and again but I haven't been in about a month or so."

 

John nodded. "Had he told you about any injuries he'd gotten while staying in the mountains? Any animal attacks?"

 

The man narrowed his eyes, tilted his head in curiosity. "Yes, actually. He was pounced on by some wild animal that came out of nowhere and disappeared just as quickly. Said it was any easy patch-up, but he didn't think he'd be back there for a while. He'd always been one to get himself hurt, though." The man sucked in a breath and looked down into his lap for a moment.

 

"I see" John said, smiling sympathetically. "Did your brother happen to know a woman named Leah Millsap?"

 

The man's head jerked up in response to the name, his eyes widening. "Leah?"

 

John inclined his head, meeting the man's eyes. "You knew her?"

 

Hartfield was nervous, a bit tense then. "No.. not really. I sort of knew her through Stevey. He talked about her quite a bit." 

 

John leaned forward setting his coffee mug on the table and clasping his hands together. He stared at Russ until the man looked up and met his eyes. "You're lying, Russ."

 

The man gaped at him for a moment, shocked and mock-outraged. "Wh-what? Where the hell do you get off--"

 

"You and Leah Millsap had a bit of a business relationship going, didn't you?" John said. "You were with her the night she was murdered, and I think you know what killed her."

 

"What?!"

 

"Mr. Hartfield, have you experienced an animal attack recently?"

 

Russ' mouth opened and closed several times and he made an effort to speak but was obviously unable to do so. Finally, he took a deep breath and gave John a hard stare. "No I have not" Hartfield said. "Agent Young, do you have a warrant for my arrest? Or any evidence against me whatsoever?"

 

John didn't answer, just watched the man calmly, knowing he'd hit a nerve. Russ stood up and crossed his arms. "No? Then I think you need to get the hell out of my house."

 

John stood up and made his way back down the hallway to the foyer. He stopped at the front door, turning back to Hartfield who'd been following behind him, arms still crossed. 

 

"If you decide you wanna talk, or have any information for me, give me a call" John said, handing the man his card. 

 

Russ simply crumbled it up in his palm and crossed his arms again. "I wouldn't count on it."

 

John turned and walked out the door, not even flinching at the slam of the door behind him. He watched Mr. Hartfield peek out at him from behind a curtain before glancing back up at the window with the evidence of scratches on the paneling.

 

"Well" he said to himself quietly, as he opened the driver's side door and climbed inside. "Maybe it's time to pay Mrs. Hartfield a visit."


	5. Open Season

  
Author's notes: Sorry this update took so long! Was a bitch of a chapter to write! Thanks to my beta, Lisbeths'Dream for pinpointing the problem! Don't be afraid to leave me a review, you lurkers! ;) XO, A  


* * *

They were alone yet again in the hotel room, that seemed to lack any air conditioning whatsoever. Dean was sitting on their bed, back to Sam, polishing several silver knives that their father had somehow accumulated and laying them out on a cloth behind him. He had refused to so much as look at Sam since their father had left. Sam was sitting at the table, the one their father had occupied all morning, pouring melted down silver into bullet molds. Dean had showed him how to do it using their father's rigged contraption of a torch and a practically prehistoric metal skillet.

 

He had watched as Dean grabbed a handful of silver objects from a bag, tossed em down with a loud clank in the skillet and turned the torch underneath up high, igniting with a dull roar. Dean's demeanor stayed harsh and quiet the entire time he demonstrated. After pouring the melted silver into the first molds, he set the skillet back down on the torch/stove/cooker…thing and tossed his gloves at Sam with a hard smirk. "Now, you."

 

Sam had just shoved on the gloves, shot Dean a glare and set to work with Dean's gaze over his shoulder.

 

He may have been pissed at Sam but he still watched carefully as Sam made his own batch, care and worry unknowingly slipping through his expression. When he was satisfied with Sam's work, he turned away and walked to the bed and worked in his quiet. Sam had wanted to do it so fucking bad, Dean thought as he listened to the clinking of Sam's work, so he'd let him. Little shit. Didn't he realize he was just trying to protect him. This was the family business, sure, but he didn't like the idea of Sam being thrown into it like he had. Except Dean had more of a head start that Sam had. By far.

 

Nearly an hour after Dean had shown him how to make the bullets and Sam was sweating like a freaking pig. The torch was like having a damned heater in front of him in the middle of the southern summer late day weather. He sat back, pulled off his gloves and glanced across the room, over at Dean. He looked at the window unit a few feet away that was steadily blowing away, pieces of ribbon attached to it's front. If it was blowing cold air, he sure as hell couldn't feel it. He stood up, walked over to the air conditioner and fell to his knees in front of it when the cold air hit him.

 

A moan escaped Sam's lips from the feeling of the chill air against his sweaty body before he realized it, and Dean froze where he sat, not even daring to breathe. Dean whipped his head around, glaring at where Sam had strayed to cool himself off. Dean let out a bit of a growl at how the sound of Sam's moan had affected him, had caused his dick to already grow half-hard. It wasn't Sam's fault but right now felt like a pretty damn good time to blame him. Dean grabbed a pillow off the bed nevertheless and tossed it at the back of Sam's head, nailing him with it.

 

"Out of the way, mop-top, your sweaty body's blocking the air" Dean said, keeping his tone light but unable to keep the menace out of it.

 

Sam turned around, glaring at Dean for once again being bossy plus being an ass. 

 

"Shut up" Sam snapped as he picked up the pillow and tossed it back. "I've made three dozen bullets now. I think I deserve a little cool air after practically sitting next to an oven."

 

Dean dodged the pillow and shrugged as he looked back down at the row of silver knives he had polished. "You wanted to be a hunter. Not always so fun, is it, Sammy?" he said, coolly.

 

"And, how much of what we do is fun, Dean?" Sam said, tilting his head and mocking his brother.

 

"Aww poor baby. Stop whining and do some geeky summer homework, Sam. I'll finish the bullets" Dean said, as he bundled up the knives. With a hard smirk, he stood up from his bed and stepped toward Sam.

 

"No" Sam said defiantly, his eyes narrowing as he stood, drawing to full height and standing in Dean's way. "I'm not four fucking years old, Dean, I know how to be a hunter. You just won't let me cause you're afraid."

 

"I'm afraid?" Dean scoffed, crossing his arms with a smirk. "Yeah, I'm the one who's scared. Cause I'm totally the one who choked up back there last night."

 

He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth, but not soon enough. That was a low blow, and Dean knew it. Sam's fists were now clenching as his jaw set in anger. He threw his body into Dean's, knocking him to the floor and emptying Dean's lungs of air. A fist impacted the left side of his face, hard, and pain pounded through his jaw. Aw, hell no, Dean thought as his own fury set in. Sam got another punch in before Dean grabbed hold of his shirt, got a knee in Sam's gut and threw him over his head. Sam landed on his back with an "UNF!" and Dean was on his feet, hands out for combat, pulling in deep breaths that echoed Sam's. Sam scrambled to his feet just in time to receive a blow to his jaw, busting his lower lip. He reeled for a moment before dodging Dean's second blow.

 

"What was that bullshit about last night, Dean?" Sam spat. "Cause I'm not the only one scared here."

 

"Shut up, Sam" Dean growled, throwing a punch at Sam's gut that Sam just barely dodged.

 

"No" Sam said, just as low in timbre, which shook both of them up. Sam was absolutely pissed. He couldn't recall ever being so mad at Dean in his life. He just wanted to rough that pretty face up so fucking bad now. Dean made to hit him again, prompting Sam to throw an elbow into Dean's right side, leaving his older brother gasping again. 

 

"Little shit." Dean wheezed, before bringing his own elbow down between Sam's shoulder's twice and knocking Sam back to the floor. 

 

"You can't just keep fucking kissing me and running away cause you're scared, Dean!" Sam was shouting now. "It's not fair to me! To either of us!"

 

Dean let out another growl of frustration and made to pin Sam down, but his younger brother rolled out of the way. Sam landed back on his feet just before Dean threw him a kick. Sam caught the boot between two hands, absorbing the impact for his stomach. Dean threw all of his weight into the leg Sam held, knocking them both off of their feet. Dean fell to the floor on his stomach and Sam knelt down on him just as he turned over onto his back, mocking their position from the day before. Unlike last time, though, Sam was really giving Dean's his all, bracing his arm under Dean's neck and effectively pinning him. 

 

"Life's a bitch, Sammy. It ain't fair, so get over" Dean panted from beneath Sam's straining forearm. "I can't give you this. I won't."

 

Sam leaned forward, locking dark eyes with his older brother. "It's all lies, Dean. I know, because you want it, too, asshole."

 

Sam let out a yelp when Dean flipped them over and pinned Sam down the same way and just as brutally. There were going to bruises all over them, but Sam didn't care. The room was filled with the sound of their heartbeats in their ears and their loud panting. Sam felt a bit of pride seeing the bit of bruising he'd left on his brother's cheek, marking up the otherwise beautiful face. If he was hot before, he was fucking burning up with rage now. It was beginning to burn away like a fever breaking, and all he could focus on now was Dean above him, sweaty and breathing harshly as he stared up at him. They were both still very much pissed, the tension burning them alive beneath their skin into something more like lust.

 

"Please, Sam" Dean said, keeping his voice low and serious. "You-- We need to let this go."

 

"This is us, Dean" Sam said, shaking his head, nearly whispering. "I know it. It feels right."

 

It was ridiculous how they kept finding themselves in this situation, always on the brink of something more and never crossing that line. Sam lifted his face towards Dean's but Dean, for once, snapped out of it and turned away, eyes hardening. "No, Sam."

 

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head as he Dean leaned back on his heels and stood, offering Sam his hand. Sam scrambled to his feet, ignoring it.

 

"You're.. a fucking hypocrite, Dean.. and you're frustrating on so many levels.." Sam panted, "..and you're a dumbass if you think you can beat me into backing out of hunting.." He braced himself for another attack from Dean that wouldn't come. He walked back over to the table and flopped down on their dad's bed in front of the window unit that was once again blessing him with cool air that he very much needed. 

 

Dean sat up, finally calming himself down and looked over at his young brother. Sam met his eyes and he could see the war inside him beginning to wear on his younger brother. What Sam was asking… It was impossible. It was wrong. If their father ever caught the slightest hint of it, Dean would be murdered and he shuddered to think what would happen to Sammy. So… why was he beginning to feel like Sam was right?

 

The sound of their hotel room phone going off made them both jump. They both glanced at it and met each other's eyes again, waiting for another ring, but it didn't come. A few moments later, it rang again and Dean jumped up, knowing it was Dad then. When Dad was out, the only one they answered the phone for or the door for was for him and if he called, he'd speak first as soon as the line was picked up. 

 

"Dean?" a voice said on the other end.

 

"Yeah, Dad" Dean said, glancing over at Sam with a pointed look. Sam rolled off their father's bed and walked over to the table and began putting away the equipment he'd been using.

 

"Dean, I'm at a hospital here in Knoxville to see a suspect." John said, looking around the hallway behind him to make sure no one nearby was listening in.

 

"What do you need, sir?" Dean said, causing Sam to look back in his direction in annoyance. Yeah, he was definitely never treating Dad like he was some sort of lieutenant or some shit.

 

"You and Sam take a car, drive to 335 Lou Pine and keep an eye on the Hartfield's place. You've seen the pictures?"

 

"And the map, yes, sir" Dean said. "Anything weird and we'll call you."

 

"Good. Get on it, stay low and--" John looked around again before lowering his voice. "--Don't let anyone catch you two 'borrowing'"

 

Dean couldn't help but grin. He'd be lying if he said that he didn't enjoy hijacking cars. It never got old. "They won't even know they're missing a car, I'll be so smooth."

 

"Be careful" John said, and ended the call. Dean laid the phone back on the cradle and turned to Sam, grabbing the bundle of knives off their bed as he did.

 

"We're stealing a car? Again?" Sam said, arms crossed and patented bitchface in full mode.

 

"Yep" Dean said, ignoring Sam's tone as he gathered the weapons around the room. "Get the bullets together, Sammy. You can load the guns on the way."

 

Sam did as Dean said, making sure all the bullets would be available in a separate bag and that all their bullet-making equipment was packed and hidden underneath a bed. The last few minutes before their father called still lingered in the air between them and Sam just had to say something before he exploded from the thoughts replaying over and over in his head. He turned and faced his brother who lugged two bags onto his shoulder.

 

"Dean, I--" Sammy said.

 

"Sam, please" Dean said, looking him in the eyes. "No chick flick moments during the hunt."

 

Sam shook his head with a scoff. He was still the pissed at Dean and now he had a question burning on his mind, but that could wait. They had a job to do. "Fine. But we're talking after."

 

Dean didn't look to happy, but he nodded in agreement, then turned to walk out the door with Sam right behind him. Whether or not he wanted to, there were some things they needed to get out in the open, good or bad.

 

***********

 

Fort Sanders Regional Medical Center was the nearest hospital from the Hartfield's house and the best in the area, so it wasn't a hard guess as to which hospital Hilary Hartfield would've been visiting. Hospitals always made John a little bit more careful, more nervous. The last time he'd been at one for himself was for an injury he hadn't been able to explain. So from then on, he'd made sure to do his own wound care or have his sons help him. Right now, though, he was Detective John Young, not John Winchester.

 

He'd asked a nurse at the front desk for Mrs. Hartfield, who then looked up her name and directed him down the correct hallway. He didn't have to look too far before the sight of the well-dressed beautiful blonde with icy blue eyes caught his eye. She walked out of an examination room and shook hands with a doctor before walking John's way. She stepped into an elevator and John hurried in after her just before the doors closed. She gave him a once-over with her eyes and smiled, revealing bright white teeth. She was definitely Hilary Hartfield. 

 

"What floor?" she said, manicured finger hovering near the buttons as she glanced back at him.

 

"Whatever floor you're headed to, ma'am" John said with a small smile. Her eyebrows rose from his response but her smile didn't falter. She pressed the number four, the doors closed and the elevator began moving. She crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall, watching John, who kept quiet and watched her back. Best to play the game, John thought.

 

"You should know, before you get any ideas, that I'm married." Hilary said with a smile.

 

"Doesn't seem to mean anything to you" John said, glancing at her left hand.

 

Hilary frowned, glanced down to her ringless finger then back at John. She reached into the purse dangling from her arm and fished out a wedding band, slipping it on with her engagement ring. "Who are you?"

 

"Someone with questions about John Hartfield" John said, simply. "Maybe you have the answers I need"

 

"My husband and I are total strangers who share a bed, so I seriously doubt it" Hilary said with a scoff. "You won't find out much from me."

 

"He seems to know a lot about you" John said with a smile. "Knew exactly where I could find you."

 

Mrs. Hartfield's eyes narrowed as her crossed arms tightened. "You spoke to my husband?"

 

"Yes, I did. He was a bit out of sorts." John said nonchalantly.

 

"Well they did find his brother dead in the woods last night." Mrs. Hartfield said.

The elevator dinged as it came to a stop. Hilary stepped out and John followed her. She rounded on him and stopped him with a hand to his chest. "Who are you. I'm not gonna ask again, I'll just get security."

 

John followed her glance to the security guards near the nurses' desk to their right and turned back to her with a nod. He lifted his badge from inside his jacket and held it out. "Detective John Young."

 

"So my husband's finally been caught with his hands dirty?" Hilary said with a chuckle as she walked toward a plastic chair and sat down. John took the seat beside her.

 

"Actually we believe he's in danger" John said, looking stern, but the woman seemed to be paying attention now. "Do you know if your husband had very many enemies who'd wanna hurt him, or those around him?"

 

"My husband is one of the best prosecutors in the state" Hilary said. "He's sent many men to prison for many different things, including murder, so yes, I'd say it's very possible he had people who wanted him dead."

 

"I see" John said, nodding. "Has your husband been a victim of any attack lately? Animal attacks?"

 

Hilary's eyes widened for a moment before looking thoughtful. "Not lately, no. The three of us, Russ, his brother and I, all went to the cabin a month ago and.." She laughed for a moment, to John's surprise. "Sorry, they just got very drunk and went out into the woods. Steven came back with a bite on his arm. Said some bear bit him, but he was laughing so we thought he was exaggerating…"

 

Hilary sat there thinking for a moment before shaking her head with another laugh. "I have to go" she said and stood to leave.

 

John stopped her with a hand around her elbow. "Wait, Mrs. Hartfield, this is important."

 

She jerked her arm out of John's grip and turned back with a cold look. "Don't touch me. I've told you everything I know and now I have to get home to my husband."

 

John let go of her arm and she gave him another cold look before stalking off toward the lobby. He sighed and looked around, unsure of whether to go after her or not. His eye caught the doorway on the other side of the nurse's desk that read "Medical Personnel Only" and suddenly he didn't need Hilary Hartfield anymore to get his answers.

 

**********

 

They were parked in a stolen station wagon a couple driveways down from the Hartfield home. Night was quickly approaching, the sun already hidden behind trees and houses. Dean should've been focused on the hunt. He loved stakeouts and he kicked ass at them. His father even said so. He never failed to keep his mind on the victim, or bait, however you'd like to think of Russ Hartfield. Tonight, however, Sam was with him in the car and just about an hour earlier, he'd promised that when the hunt was over, they'd talk about what it is they were. Dean felt a bit dizzy from thinking about that, because really, what were they? 

 

Incestuous brothers, his mind immediately supplied. But somehow that seemed like the least of Dean's fears. Like what if Sam ever realized what it meant that they were together? He'd be disgusted. He'd lay all the blame on Dean, which he deserved. He was the big brother. Sam would never want to see Dean ever again, which, again, was something Dean deserved. Dean was freaking out. He'd just have to explain this all to Sam somehow.

 

He looked over at his younger brother who was just as vigilant as Dean was supposed to be, binoculars out, eyes on the perimeter around the Hartfields' home. They were closer than most brothers. Sam knew all of Dean's scars that he'd accumulated over the past five years, even helped Dean clean them up. He knew what bands really were Dean's favorites and not just cause they were their dad's. He knew that Dean may not be intelligent book-wise, but he had street smarts.

 

It never failed to take Dean by surprise how Sam was growing faster every day, beginning to fill out his lanky body and changing slowly into the beautiful young man he would surely turn out to be. He should be going after hot young girls any chance he got like Dean did, but he wasn't. He was turning to his older brother. He'd gotten his first kiss from his older brother and the way he was going, he was going to have many more firsts. He stared at Sam's shaking form, eyes closed from exhaustion. Split-lip and all, Dean couldn't deny, he was beautiful. Dean shook his head, trying to clear it of this thoughts. Before he knew it, his mouth was opening.

 

"I just can't lose you, Sammy…" Dean said, his voice rough and cracked and made Sam jump at the sound. "To the hunt.. or to.." He gestured between them, the only way he could acknowledge the change their relationship had taken.

 

Sam's eyes opened and glanced over at his older brother, who was rubbing his bruised jaw slowly with a fond smile on his face, but his eyes were downcast, hidden. He remembered the no chick-flick moments rule but no way was he gonna remind Dean of that now.

 

"I don't make friends cause the normal people.. they're clueless. I don't date because, what's the point?" Dean said, with a small laugh. "But, see I don't care about any of that shit cause.. I got you."

 

Dean looked up then, meeting Sam's eyes and Sam felt warmth underneath the heat covering his body from the honesty he saw in that man's face. He felt a small smile on his face splitting his cut lip a little more, but he didn't care. "Dean, you're not gonna lose me. I'm always gonna be here, by your side."

 

Dean had been shaking his head before Sam finished talking, a sad smile on his face. "You can't say that" Dean said. "Can't promise that"

 

"Dean--" Sam said, interrupting him.

 

Dean followed Sam's sight to the rear window where headlights were getting closer. They were parked down the street from the Hartfields' outside a house with a "For Sale" sign in front of it. Dean sunk down in the seat, Sam following his lead, until the headlights passed by. They sat back up, looking out the window and both caught the taillights of a car in the Hartfields' driveway. 

 

"Must be the missus", Dean whispered.

 

A blonde woman in a dark dress got out of her car and walked up a path from the driveway to the front door. She stopped halfway to the door and turned around, glancing toward the stolen station wagon. 

 

Sam and Dean ducked back down with a hiss of surprise from Dean. They stayed there from a moment before looking back up at the window. The woman had gone inside, leaving them out in the quiet dark of the neighborhood.

 

"Right" Dean said, checking his gun and looking over at Sam who had a knife of his own in a holster beneath his right pants leg and a gun handy. He nodded back at Dean and they exited the car, stealthily crossing the street in the darkening shadows. On a seat in the station wagon, Dean's cell phone began ringing a shrilly tone as John's name lit up the screen.

 

Sam and Dean crept along a line of tall, shaped bushes against the fence, Dean in front of Sam. Seconds later they were underneath the nearest window, backs against the brick wall with breath escaping quietly. Sam looked over at Dean for a signal and Dean raised his head slowly above the windowsill, glanced around inside then nodded at Sam. They both peered inside at Mr. and Mrs. Hartfield sitting at a dining room table. They could barely make out a muffle past the sheet of glass separating them.

 

"I just really need you here right now, Hil" Russ said, with his head in his hands. His voice was thick with tears and grief. His wife simply sat at the other end staring at a glass of wine between her fingers. Her eyes lifted up to her husband, icy cold eyes settling in a glare.

 

"And.. where were you when I need you, Russ?" her voice wove through the dining room like a mist. 

 

"What?" Russ said, lifting his face from his hands. He shivered from the cold that seemed to come with his wife's voice. The sun had gone down now and the only light in the house was the kitchen, shining through the doorway into the dining room.

 

"Were you off.. fucking that whore?" Hilary said, before lifting the glass to her lips and draining the last of the deep red liquid.

 

Russ was shaking now, eyes wide as he looked at his wife. "Wh-what? I haven't been w-with anyone, h-honey."

 

"Liar" Hilary said quietly, but it came off deeper. Like a growl. "Do you remember me disappearing that night? The night I was attacked? You and Steven had your drinks, and your cards. Forgot I was even in the room."

 

Russ closed his eyes in shame. "Honey, I swear--"

 

"Shut your mouth!" she shrieked, crushing her glass in her hands. "Do not. Call me honey. Not after you cheated on me with that woman while I was in the hospital." She whispered the last part, pain and rage passing across her beautiful face. 

 

She sniffled for a moment before standing from the table, tossing the shards of glass onto the floor. Russ was shaking in fear and shame now, watching her with wide eyes. She felt strong now, could feel the time coming, boiling in her blood and warming her bones.

 

"But you're getting what's yours now. Just like that hooker. Just like Steven." She whispered. "Revenge… it tastes like a liar's blood."

 

Just then, the white light of the moon came through the window. Something in Hilary's ice blue eyes changed, turned more primal and her body became more warped. Her teeth seemed to lengthen, as did her nails. Russ tried backing away from her, falling out of his chair when he did. He landed on his back and crawled under the table when Hilary landed on it with a guttural growling. A clawed hand punched through the wood of the table and wrapped around Russ' neck, tightening and digging into the skin.

 

A loud shot echoed through the air and a yelping followed as the hand around Russ' neck released him. Hilary's body skidded onto the floor across Russ before leaping up and crashing through the bay window behind the table. Russ sat up and watched as two pairs of feet clambered around over-turned chairs and stopped beside him. Two teenage boys helped him to his feet, both carrying handguns like they'd been doing it since birth.

 

"You're gonna be alright, sir" the older and slightly taller one said, extending his hand to help him up. "I'm Dean Winchester and this is my brother, Sam. We're here to help you."


	6. Family Business

  
Author's notes: One more chapter to go! :) Hope you enjoy and leave me a review if you feel like it! I love to know what you think! XO, A  


* * *

Russ Hartfield sat in the middle of his long, comfy couch, a cup of coffee clutched in his shaking hands. His face was drawn and pale and he looked like if anyone so much as breathed in his direction, he'd shatter into a million pieces. Sam had to admit he felt bad for the poor bastard. In the course of two days, his life had completely caved in from the inside out. First, with the death of his brother and now being nearly murdered by his werewolf wife who was punishing him for his infidelity. It kinda knocked Sam for a loop, made him disoriented in his too spacious teenage mind from trying to wrap his brain around how the man must be feeling.

 

The importance of their job, the family business: saving people, hunting things, wasn't missed by Sam. He'd heard it nearly every day of his life since he was nine years old and he'd begged Dean to tell him the truth of what their father did. And then, shortly after, he'd learned Dean was doing it, too. And now, here Sam was, following in those lofty, fatal footsteps. Again, it kinda threw Sam. Up until now, he was gung ho for ganking, for joining his brother and father on the frontlines of this war they preach so much about. But as with all wars, Sam should've realized, there are casualties. Now, getting this insight into the other side; seeing what it meant for those they were saving, the innocent and the guilty… Sam was uncertain. Maybe he wasn't cut out for this.

 

"Sam", Dean's low, gravelly voice interrupted. 

 

He turned to meet Dean's gaze in the half-light of the barely lit house. He was pulled out of his reverie and away from the doorway by the arm by Dean. Sam followed him, feeling like a child, into the dining room where the bay window's curtains were billowing in the night air, scratching against the broken glass still attached to it's pane. He turned and met Dean's concerned eyes and shook off the remains of the daze he'd entered in the past few minutes. 

 

"You alright?" Dean said, tone demanding nothing but the truth.

 

Sam actually had to think about the question for a second, not entirely sure what he was. "Yeah", he lied. "Did you call Dad?"

 

Dean nodded. "Like ten minutes ago. He's on his way. Not too happy we lost that bitch, though."

 

"Didn't think he would be" Sam said with a shrug, before looking at the watch Dean had bought him at a truck stop a few months back. "It's only eight. We've got time to find her."

 

"Yeah, but the sooner, the better." Dean said with a slight shudder. "Ready to be done with this hunt and get out of this town. Damn oversized mutts."

 

Sam nodded in agreement before looking back towards the living room doorway. "How do you think the lawyer's taking it?"

 

Dean snorted. "I'm pretty sure he's doing peachy."

 

Sam scoffed a small laugh, found himself staring at Dean's feet and slipping back into his thoughts against his own will. He wasn't sure he was taking it that much better than Hartfield was. Being in the same room with one of those creatures again kind of shook Sam up. But he refused to let it take him over and turn him into some kind of trauma victim again. Yet again, Dean brought him back with the soft uttering of his name.

 

"Sammy? You sure you're fine?"

 

The green of his eyes barely noticeable in the dimly lit dining room were calm, worried and calculating and Sam was the center of their attention. He felt a blush creep up his neck from the warmth spreading in his chest. Yet another thing Sam loved about Dean, among the thousands of reasons, he never let Sam get lost in his own mind. It was a scary place in there sometimes, filled with worries and monsters and weirdness that all jumbled up and suffocated him sometimes. Dean always saved him from it.

 

"I'll be okay when we end this" Sam said quietly, knowing exactly what the words meant. 

 

They were going to have to kill this woman. Even knowing that she was thirsty for revenge and that she wasn't altogether human didn't change the fact that she was once a human. She still looked like one for the most part, still felt and bled like one. Sam dreaded it, but the warm, steadying hand that dropped onto his shoulder, made him look back into those orbs of green kept him grounded. He couldn't help stepping forward and burying his face into the crook of Dean's shoulder, wrapping his arms around Dean's waist. He let out a nervous puff of air when Dean's arms settled around him as well, feeling Dean's lips press a chaste kiss into his hair.

 

They split apart when they heard the rumbling purr of the Impala from outside the house. Dean gave Sam one last meaningful squeeze of the shoulder before he walked out of the dining room. Sam followed him as he walked down the hall to the foyer where their father burst in through the front door, gun in his right hand. He rushed to their side as soon as he saw them.

 

"Sammy" John said, shoving his gun in the back of his jeans before putting both hands on his younger son's shoulders, looking him over. "You alright?"

 

"'M fine, Dad" Sam mumbled, trying not to roll his eyes. "Dean's already pulled the mama bear act on me."

 

His father turned to Dean then, raising his eyebrows in a question. It was the closest Dean was gonna get to being asked if he was hurt. Sam felt himself bristling at the fact that he treated Dean more like a piece of equipment or a weapon than a fucking human being. 

 

"I'm fine, only had to take a shot at the bitch and she hauled ass." Dean said.

 

John simply nodded, but didn't look any more relieved. In fact, he looked pissed. "We need to hurry, she's probably heading up to the cabin in the mountains."

 

Dean jerked his head down the hallway behind them. "Hartfield's in the living room. A bit shaken up, but I'm pretty sure you can get something out of him by now."

 

John stepped past him, heading down the hallway, not even sparing his sons a second glance. "Well, he'll have to. We don't have time for sympathy."

 

Dean followed after their father, but Sam stopped and took a few calming breaths. The audacity of the man had him shaking with anger and he needed to keep his head straight right now. Dean stopped at the end of the hall, at the doorway to the living room and looked back at Sam.

 

"You coming?"

 

Sam stomped down the hallway, past Dean and his raised eyebrows to stand beside their father in the living room. Dean joined them seconds later just in time for their father to put the lawyer into tears.

 

"Mr. Hartfield, we're running out of time. We need to know the whole story here." John said, his voice rising with every word, void of sympathy.

 

The man looked up at him, shaking his head. "I-I didn't know. She said he bit her, but we were all drunk, I figured she'd just been disoriented."

 

John let out an impatient sigh and Sam stepped in front of him, taking his place in the conversation before he said something to their father he might regret. 

 

"Mr. Hartfield, please, calm down and start from the beginning" Sam said, keeping his voice calm and quiet, soothing. 

 

Dean looked over at his younger brother, a little surprised at how Sam was using his puppy dog eyes to plead with the lawyer. It seemed to work though, Dean realized with the quirk of an eyebrow. The man looked up at Sam with wide, bloodshot eyes, stared him into Sam's hazel ones for a moment before taking a deep breath and nodding.

 

"My brother, my wife and I were at our cabin in the mountains, just relaxing and drinking" Mr. Hartfield said, keeping his eyes on the carpet beneath his feet. "By midnight, we were off our asses drunk. Me and Steven had gone outside, claiming to be hunting something. We'd taken guns and everything. Hilary had stayed inside."

 

He looked up, met Sam's gaze who simply nodded in encouragement. "I heard Hilary scream and that got my attention. I stumbled back to the cabin and she was wrapping her arm in a towel, screaming that Steven had bitten her." Russ scoffed a bitter laugh before shaking his head. "I didn't believe her, figured she'd tried to get near some wild animal while she was drunk or something. Guess she really was telling the truth."

 

"Thank you, Mr. Hartfield" Sam said with a soft smile, turning to give their father a "so, there" look. John ignored it, but Dean looked genuinely impressed with Sam's interrogation. Their father stepped a few feet away before turning back to them.

 

"Okay, so this is good news" John said quietly. "If Steven Hartfield bit the wife, then we only have to take out the one werewolf."

 

"So what do we do, sir?" Dean said, voice and posture resembling that of the young soldier their father had raised him to be. Sam had to hide his eye-rolling.

 

"You two take the car you came here with and head to the cabin, I'll take Hartfield in the Impala with me." John said. "We meet up there and I'll give you your instructions."

 

Sam flicked a glance over at Dean, but his older brother was giving John their full attention, nodding in reply. "We're taking this thing down tonight. One way or another."

 

Sam tried not to think about the way his father's words sent a chill down his spine.

 

**********

 

Sam and Dean were back in the stolen station wagon, following the Impala's taillights as they drove to the cabin they'd been squatting in earlier that week. Sam looked out the passenger window at the full moon shining in the cloudless hot night sky over the dark sea of trees to their right. It was the final night of the full moon and Sam was literally having to force himself not to shake from nerves. His doubts from earlier were still lingering. He found himself wondering if, when the time came, he could pull the trigger. His stomach clenched and Sam winced slightly.

 

"Calm down, Sammy" Dean said.

 

"I'm calm" Sam said, a little to quick in reply.

 

Dean snorted. "Yeah, I can practically feel you having a nervous breakdown over there."

 

Sam scowled, returned to looking out the passenger window. Something about hunting this thing with their father in the lead had Sam's inside clenching. So many times Dean came home injured, looking beat to hell and bleeding so much Sam thought he was gonna faint. He felt like if their father was more careful about planning, Dean wouldn't get hurt so much. And now, Sam felt like he was lining up next to Dean to be some monster's chew toy. It wasn't a nice feeling. He didn't understand how Dean could do it.

 

Sam looked over at his older brother who was staring at the road. He looked over at Sam with an understanding smile, then reached over and settled his hand on Sam's thigh. "Everything's gonna be fine" Dean said softly. "Just stay behind me and, uh, try not to shoot me, okay?"

 

Sam let out a soft laugh, smiled at his older brother and hesitated for a moment before settling his own hand on top of Dean's. "I'm not just gonna be a little pussy and hide. I can't do that." Dean looked over at Sam in surprise, eyebrows raised. Sam just shook his head in reply. "You raised me better than that, Dean" 

 

Dean seemed blown away by that answer, didn't really have a reply. He turned his gaze back to the road and threaded his fingers between Sam's. Sam breathed in deeply and then let it out. Everything was gonna be fine. No one but that bitch was dying tonight, Sam would make sure of it. 

 

***********

 

Thirty minutes later, the vehicles made the way up the drive to the cabin. As far as places they'd stayed in before, the cabin was possibly the best, and they hadn't even spent one night in it. It surprisingly wasn't decked out in all the latest appliances and such. It was just a simple cabin with all the amenities, two bedrooms, a bathroom, a kitchen and living room complete with wet bar and pool table, which he and Dean had gotten one game out of before they'd had to move out, the werewolf being too close.

 

John got out of the Impala, Hartfield tentatively getting out of the passenger side moments later to follow him up the steps to the front door. Sam and Dean were at the top of the steps of the front porch once Russ had the door opened. John stopped them Russ from entering, producing a gun from out of the waistband of his jeans, before looking to Sam and Dean. They'd both come prepared as well, both with flashlights, Dean with his gun and Sam with his silver-bladed knife. With a nod, John stepped inside with Sam and Dean covering him. It was exactly as they'd left it, clean of any traces of them ever having been there.

 

Dean and Sam clicked on their flashlights, Dean passing his to their father as they stepped inside the house. They peered around every corner of the conjoined kitchen and living room, around furniture and checked for any signs of a recent break-in. Sam and Dean checked one bedroom while John checked another before doing a quick sweep of the bathroom. He joined his sons and Mr. Hartfield sitting down in the living room, flicking on the lights as he walked in.

 

"Place is clear" John said, to no one in particular before turning his gaze on Hartfield. "Anyone we should expect coming up here?"

 

The lawyer looked startled, obviously intimidated by the hunter before him. Hell, Sam thought, he was regarding him and Dean with a good bit of fear as well. 

 

"No" he said softly. "No one but me, my wife and my brother ever came up here."

 

John nodded, satisfied with his answer. He turned to Dean. "You and me will check the perimeter around the house, down to where you and Sam were attacked the other night."

 

Dean glanced at Sam as if he were about to say something, but simply replied with a "Yes, sir." Sam couldn't stop the shiver that came over him at the memory of that night but cleared his throat, swallowed to ground himself again. His father turned on him next. 

 

"Sam, stay here" John said before giving the lawyer a quick glance, as if to say "watch him". 

 

Sam nodded in reply, walking his brother and father to the door. His father didn't say anything else, continued on to the Impala, but Sam caught Dean's sleeve. Dean turned, raised an eyebrow at his brother when he saw his expression, obviously slightly worried. Sam glanced over at Dean's shoulder at their father who hadn't noticed Dean wasn't behind him yet, or had noticed and just didn't care. 

 

"Um.. be careful, okay?" Sam said, knitting his eyebrows together. He hoped Dean got the message he couldn't say out loud. The "I love you and if you don't watch your ass out there, I'll kick it" loud and clear in Sam's eyes. Dean smiled his trademark smirk at Sam, but Sam could see the answering love in his eyes.

 

"Careful's my middle name, Sammy."

 

"No, that's jackass." Sam said, but kept his tone light. 

 

Dean snorted a laugh and jogged out into the darkness to join their father, the light of his flashlight getting smaller and smaller. Sam closed the front door and locked it, checked the windows before taking a seat in a chair across from Hartfield, who had his face cradled in his hands. Sam found himself slumping into the same pose, but decided on settling a hand over his eyes and leaning back against the chair. He found himself praying to God that things went smoothly tonight, that they wouldn't be injured, that Dean and his father would be safe. Maybe God would listen to a teenager with a homosexual, incestuous desire for his brother.

 

"What.." 

 

Sam looked up from his hand, caught the lawyer stumbling over his words, trying to say something. He tried not to look annoyed, hoped he looked encouraging, at least.

 

"Are you people going to.. kill my wife?" Mr. Hartfield said. 

 

Sam was actually taken aback by the question, felt sick to his stomach with grief and guilt. Not just that, but that the man had referred to him and his family as "you people". As if they were an entirely different species, which... maybe they were. His doubts had come to the forefront of his mind again about whether he could handle this job. Hartfield was still staring at him, waiting for an answer and all Sam could think to tell him was the truth. 

 

"Yes, sir" Sam said quietly, looking at him apologetically. "She's dangerous. She tried to kill you, will try again unless we stop her."

 

The lawyer watched him for a moment more before swallowing and looking down at his hands and nodding slightly. "I.. People make mistakes" Hartfield said, looking at Sam with wide, pleading eyes. As if asking Sam for forgiveness.

 

"This is all my fault. I loved my wife, but… I made a mistake." Russ said, closing his eyes and shaking his head in grief. Sam couldn't do anything but listen, didn't know what to say to alleviate the man's pain.

 

"Who are you people?" Russ said, and there was the "you people" again. He looked slightly angry at Sam. As if it was his fault all of this was happening. "What kind of man raises his sons like this?"

 

Sam felt himself getting angry at the man, though. At his stupidity and ignorance and for talking about his family like that. Sure, Sam and their father didn't get along. And he was a revenge-crazed alcoholic who dragged his sons into a life that would seriously give therapists a field day to work with. But John was still their father and Sam did love him, every infuriating part. Not nearly as much as he loved Dean, but still. Plus, they were risking their lives to keep him safe, for Christ's sake. 

 

"My father is a good man who's saved countless lives" Sam said, his voice low as he got to his feet. The man seemed to recoil in light of Sam's height. "And we are the ones who are saving your ass, so why don't you show some respect?"

 

At that moment, the sound of shattering glass screamed from somewhere down the hallway across from them, echoing throughout the silent cabin. Sam snapped his gaze down the hallway at the noise, replaced his knife for a gun in the waistband of his jeans, clicking the safety off.

 

"What was that?" Hartfield whispered, his fear-filled voice making him sound oddly childish.

 

"Nothing good" Sam said quietly. 

 

The fluorescent lights in the living room were extinguished, drenching Sam and Mr. Hartfield's world in darkness. Sam heard Hartfield suck in a deep breath of panic, and found he had to stamp down his own fear sliding down his spine in a cold wave. He had to stay focused, be aware. Be a hunter. Be a Winchester.

 

He grabbed for the flashlight he knew was in the seat of the chair he had just been sitting in, clicked it, illuminating the room around him. Hartfield was paled and frantic, eyes darting around him in fear as he shrunk into the couch. Sam shined the flashlight down the hallway, crossing his wrists like he was taught so that he could light his way and aim his gun. 

 

"Stay here and stay quiet" Sam whispered, before walking down the hallway. 

 

He didn't wait for a reply before taking a step towards the first door to his right, the bathroom. There were no windows in there, so he moved on. The next door on his right was the bedroom where he and Dean would've shared. The door was already slightly opened so he nudged it open with his shoulder, panning his flashlight across the room as he did. There was one queen bed inside with two windows, one above the headboard and another on the right side of the bed.

 

Pieces of glass glinted on the floor in the light of Sam's flashlight, big enough for someone his size to fit through and not get cut. He heard the growling before he saw the creature itself.

 

"Oh, shit" Sam whispered.

 

***********

 

Dean finished his sweep of the property, hustled to meet his father at the crest of the hill that led back up to the house. John was peering at the land around them, his dark eyes glittering in the light of the moon that shone through the trees above them. He fingered the safety switch on his handgun slightly, his nerves about Sam and Dean just barely under his skin. He turned around when he heard Dean's footsteps approaching.

 

"The property's clear on my side, apart from some pretty nice scratches in the bark back there" Dean panted.

 

John nodded, clicked on his flashlight and pointed at some deep footprints leading back to the cabin. Dean's eyes widened, swiveled to meet his father's with an incredulous look. He made to run back up the path but was stopped by his father's grip around his arm.

 

"No" John said, simply.

 

"Dad, Sam's a sitting duck up there! She's gonna be after Hartfield!" Dean said, frantically trying to pull away from his father.

 

"I know, just wait" John said, his voice calm and confident in a way that had Dean's heart racing and itching to get to his brother. Finally, all of the panic and shock at his father overtook him and he swung at him. Hard. His fist connected with the left side of his father's face, forcing him to let go of Dean's arm, who took of back up the path without a second thought.

 

"Dean!" John called after him, but Dean wouldn't be stopped.

 

Dean's heart felt like it was gonna jump out of his chest in panic when he saw that none of the lights in the cabin were on. Just then, the sound of gunshots came from inside the cabin, coupled with the flashes that illuminated the inside for a few moments at a time. There was a crash of glass as one of the tall windows in the side of the cabin burst open with the force of two bodies that rolled down the side of the hill.

 

"Sam!" Dean called, fear ripping through him. 

 

He took off back down the hill, passing John who'd already been heading in the direction of the two bodies. They hurried to the bottom, spotting a dark bundle that was a human body crumpled in the dirt, barely lit by the moonlight. Dean got to the body first, dropped to his knees and turned it over. He let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding when he saw that it was the body of the lawyer, barely breathing from the trauma he'd received. He looked over at his father who wasn't looking at either Dean or the lawyer but had his flashlight and gun directed to something behind Dean.

 

Dean slowly turned to see the clawed human feet digging into the ground a few feet away from him. As discreet as he could, he reach behind him with his left hand and grabbed his handgun, clicked the safety off. The werewolf growled at the sound of the gun, pounced at Dean, taking him down by the shoulders. Dean braced one arm against both of the werewolf's put the other underneath the neck of the creature to distance himself from the snapping jaws of razor sharp teeth. 

 

Just as the claws started to break the skin of Dean's right shoulder, two shots went off, but both missed as both Dean and the creature wrestled on the ground. It shrieked and leapt off Dean in the next moment, taking John down this time, lifting his father's head and slamming back on the ground. Dean scrambled to his feet, reached for his gun and fired off a shot at the creature's back. It shrieked and turned to glare at Dean, letting go of his father. John groaned for a moment before going quiet, eyes closing.

 

"Dad!" Dean shouted, keeping his eyes on the werewolf.

 

In the light of Dean's flashlight, it still retained a lot of Hilary Hartfield's characteristics, just more lupine and sharp, even still in a tight-fitting dress that was beginning to turn to shreds. She looked absolutely beast-like, saliva drizzling down her chin. She leapt after Dean but he dodged out of her way, grabbing for the blade beneath his pants leg and getting a cut into her left side which sizzled and had her shrieking again. She swiped at Dean with her arm, catching him square in the face and knocking him off his feet again.

 

He landed with an off, and had all the air knocked out of his lungs. The creature crouched over him, snarling, eyes full of fury and hatred. Dean made to knock her off of him but had his arm knocked aside. She grasped both claws into his t-shirt and ripped it open, exposing his chest to the warm night. Dean squinted his eyes closed as she raised one claw in the air and brought it down. 

 

A gunshot rang out loud and clear in the night, and Dean opened his eyes to see Sam standing a few feet away, gun held out and hard expression on his face. Hilary's face was frozen in death thanks to the bleeding hole in her head as she began to fall forward. Dean knocked her off of him and stood up, aiming a quick kick into her abdomen. "That was one of my favorite t-shirts, bitch." he growled.

 

Her body rolled over from his kick and in the moonlight, he could see her slowly reverting back to her human form, the silver bullet having cleansed her body of the curse that had transformed her in the first place. He turned around and saw that Sam was still standing there with the gun held out like he had been when he fired. He slowly approached his younger brother, grabbed hold of his wrist and brought the gun down until he could take it out of Sam's hands.

 

Sam looked up then, eyebrows knitting together in confusion and worry. "I killed her?"

 

Dean nodded, wrapped one arm around Sam's shoulder and brought him close, breathing deep. "Yeah, you did, Sammy. You got her."

 

Sam nodded and went quiet, wrapping his arms loosely around Dean's waist. "She tackled me out of the way in the cabin, made off with Hartfield before I could get a good shot off… is he?"

 

"He needs a hospital" Dean said. "Like now."

 

"Dad?" Sam whimpered, fingers clenching worriedly in Dean's ripped shirt. He felt himself at the edge of falling into breakdown with his face pressed against the tight skin of Dean's chest.

 

"Unconscious, but he'll be fine." Dean said confidently, started to sway a little with Sam in his arms. All the worry he'd accumulated over the past hour when the hunt had began, had piled up when he thought Sam had been thrown out of a window was beginning to melt away.

 

"You?" Sam whispered. 

 

"You're safe, so I'm good, Sammy" Dean said quietly, pulling him tight against him and closing his eyes with a kiss into his hair. "We're good."


	7. Epilogue - "I'm Yours"

  
Author's notes: Here it is! The final chapter. Hope you've enjoyed! Don't be afraid to drop me a review. Thanks for reading and reviewing :) XO, A  


* * *

When John awoke, it was to the feeling of stark cold pressed to his pounding head. He flinched back and groaned, trying to get used to his aching head from where the werewolf bitch had shaken him like a rattle. Suddenly, it all came rushing back to him: the hunt, the werewolf, his boys. His eyes snapped open to bright fluorescent lights and he sat straight up, which he immediately realized was the wrong thing for his murderous headache, set his vision spinning. They were back inside the cabin with all the lights turned on, a warm breeze blowing gently through the tall, gaping window across the room. He let out another groan and felt a hand on his chest, pushing him back to lay down.

 

"Easy, Dad, you took a pretty nice hit" 

 

He squinted an eye open at his younger son who was smiling tentatively at him. John let out a small cough of a laugh and sat up anyway, looking his son over. For the most part, he was fine. Had a split lip and was covered in dirt and bits of leaves but he looked to be in one piece with no bad injuries. John found himself smiling in pride and possibly delirium at him. This was a Winchester alright, John thought to himself. A real warrior.

 

"You're alright?" John said, holding what he realized now was a dishtowel wrapped around ice to his head. "The werewolf?"

 

"I'm…" Sam started, looked like he had to think about it before simply nodding with a laugh. "I'm golden. And.. I shot it. She's dead."

 

John looked up at his younger son who was peering into his hands, looking like he was holding back tears. He knew exactly how he was feeling and knew Sam probably felt it even more heavily. He reached out tentatively and settled a hand on Sam's shoulder squeezing it. Sam looked up at his father with the residual fear he was trying to hide, biting his lip. 

 

"You did what you had to do, Sammy" John said firmly. "It wasn't easy, but you did it. And… I'm proud of you."

 

Sam watched him for a moment before taking a deep breath and nodding. John smiled at him again before squeezing his shoulder again. Sam swallowed and looked away, feeling a bit awkward. Their father was not a touchy-feely person and Sam didn't know how he felt about his this newfound pride stemming from killing something.

 

"Where's Dean?" John said, peering around them with an odd look, kind of leery that had Sam frowning.

 

"He's getting Hartfield situated in the station wagon. He's gotta get to the hospital ASAP" Sam said. As if on cue, their brother walked through the door, stopping short when he and their father met each other's gaze. Sam flicked a glance between them, standing up so he wouldn't be the only sitting down. He crossed his arms and turned to their father when no one said anything.

 

"What's going--"

 

"Sammy, get in the car, you can come with me to drop off the lawyer" Dean said, tearing his eyes away from their father. He had a fake "nothing's wrong" smile on his face that Sam could see right through and let Dean know with a narrowing of his eyes.

 

Sam looked over to their Dad who didn't say anything, wasn't looking at Dean any longer either but began walking around the room and gathering the weapons lying out. Not that he was asking for permission, but something was clearly up and he intended to find out. He flicked a look at Dean, who met his with one that said "get in the car and I'll explain everything later". Sam glanced one last time at their father before stepping around Dean and out the door. He stopped a few feet outside the door and hid behind a post on the porch in the dark, watched his brother and father through the still open doorway.

 

Dean walked further inside, his hands inside his pockets, watching as their stood in the breeze of the broken living room window. Dean seemed tense, back ramrod straight and not moving, like he was when he was in a hunt. Treating John like some wild animal who may attack at any moment. John didn't even turn to face Dean when he finally spoke. 

 

"So Sammy took the bitch down, huh?"

 

Dean finally moved, crossed his arms and eased up a little. He let out a small laugh that even without seeing Dean's face, Sam could tell was fake. "Yep. Saved my ass doing it, too."

 

John nodded. "To think I doubted him. He may be a great hunter yet."

 

"You should be very proud.." Dean said. Sam could see his eyes now and was shocked to see they were full of anger and contempt. Never in his life had Dean looked at their father like that, not with even the remotest bit of displeasure. What the hell was going on?

 

"Dad, about earlier tonight--"

 

John turned around, silenced him with a hand, a sad smile on his face that disappeared when he saw Dean's face. He seemed to be taken aback by the nonexistent reverence that Dean's face usually held when he looked at his father. He shook his head and finally met Dean's eyes with a tired look.

 

"Dean, it's forgiven. I took it a bit too far. I deserved a punch to the face."

 

Sam couldn't hold back his small gasp or his jaw dropping as he flicked a look between his father and his brother. Dean had punched their father? Had Hell suddenly frozen over and Sam hadn't realized it? What. The. Hell?

 

Dean's expression softened a little, but not much and he still held John's gaze without blinking. "Good. Cause I'd do it again."

 

John's jaw dropped momentarily, eyes widened at his son's gall and lack of respect. He corrected himself quickly, held Dean's gaze with a the slightest hint of a glare without speaking. Sam couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene, away from Dean.

 

"If you ever put Sammy in danger like that again…" Dean said. 

 

His voice was shaking slightly but a sharp edge to it that said he was serious. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and then let it out before opening them again. John looked at Dean with a look that dared him to finish, but Dean wasn't frightened in the least. It was the perfect picture of the student taking on the master and Sam honestly couldn't tell you who would win in a fight between his father and his brother. He knew who he'd end up siding with no matter what, though.

 

"Family first. Right, Dad?" Dean said, a bitter edge to his voice. 

 

He shook his head at his father and took a step back. Sam took the moment to walk away, breaking into a run halfway to the station wagon. Hartfield was still unconscious in the backseat, but was still breathing, if not a little harshly. Sam leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes, letting the stress of the hunt seep out of him and thought back over the conversation he'd just overheard. 

 

Their father had used him as bait for the werewolf and Sam didn't understand how he couldn't have seen it so clearly at the time. The werewolf had been after Hartfield who'd been guarded by Sam. Their father had planned that. Had probably known his plan before meeting them at Hartfield's home. That scared the shit out of Sam, if he was totally honest with himself. And Dean, he'd punched their father for it. Had threatened to do more if he tried it again. If Sam was honest with himself about that, it scared him but.. he was never more sure that he was in love with Dean.

 

 

"Burn the body and I'll see you back at the hotel" Dean said, turning to walk out the door.

 

"Dean, wait" John said in a tone as authoritative as when they were training, not recoiling when Dean shot a hateful look at him. He stood up to his whole height and gave Dean a hard look that didn't have Dean backing down either. "Every hunt is a training exercise we can't afford to fail. What Sam did tonight--"

 

"He could have died!" Dean barked, but John continued on.

 

"That's a possibility with every hunt and you know that just as well as I do" John said, his voice hard but calm, every word wielded with stone authority. "We have to stop babying him and let him get roughed up a little. I did the same thing with you."

 

Dean's eyes widened for just a second before his face returned to its hard and impassive state. "Well that's me" Dean said, before taking a step closer to their father, his eyes narrowed. "There's a difference between being a good hunter.. and feeding innocent people to monsters. Especially your family."

 

Dean was expecting the blow to his face, so he wasn't taken aback when his father's fist connected with his jaw. He simply stumbled back and shook his head at his father's low "watch what you say, boy". He turned and walked back to the doorway, ignoring every instinct that said not to turn his back on his father. Things would be back to normal between them all in the morning, but tonight, Dean wasn't the obedient soldier, John wasn't the superhuman hunter whose word was law and Sam wasn't going to be anywhere out of Dean's sight.

 

**********

 

It was 1 in the morning by the time Sam and Dean got back to the hotel room and Sam was pretty sure he'd never been more tired in his life. He wanted a shower and bed, but he as he turned to face Dean once they were inside, he realized he wanted the talk they'd promised even more. The whole ride back to Knoxville had been quiet, Dean flicking glances his way when Sam wasn't looking and vice versa for Sam. Dean hadn't said one word about the fight or anything, simply asked Sam to help him get the lawyer into the hospital.

 

They'd answered whatever questions about the lawyer's injuries as truthfully as they could manage, saying he was attacked by a wild animal and had tumbled from a huge height. The second no one was watching them, they were gone without a trace. They'd have to be out of town by tomorrow morning and Sam was definitely okay with that. As far as he was concerned, the past few days were just nightmare fodder for a month. On the hunting part of the past week, that was.

 

The good parts, the steamy kiss with Dean on the forest floor, the make-out session in the bathroom… they would all become his new fantasies. He realized he was staring at Dean, and with a start, saw that Dean was watching him. Dean's eyes were dark green and unreadable for the most part, but Sam flushed with the realization that he could see the familiar glints of lust and love in them. Dean took off his jacket, winced a little when pulling his right arm out of his sleeve. 

 

Sam frowned, walking over to his brother and gasping when he saw the claw marks at the top of Dean's right shoulder. Dean was still wearing his torn t-shirt, his tanned skin shining in the light of the hotel room lamps, the words "Led Zeppelin" no longer determinable among the rags. It was darkened with blood weeping from the cuts on his upper arm. Sam pressed both his hands to Dean's chest, ignored how it seemed to make him tingle all over to touch the warm skin, and how it made Dean stiffen. He pushed his older brother in the direction of the nearest chair.

 

"It's no big deal, Sam.." Dean said softly, even so, following Sam's arms where they were pushing him into a chair. 

 

Sam gave him a glare when he tried to sit up, pushing him back into the chair. He walked over to one of their duffel bags and retrieved their first aid kit, complete with stitching materials. He also grabbed a bottle of whiskey from their father's bag, passing it to Dean when he walked back to him. Sam took a seat behind Dean, began cleaning the wounds with a sterilized pad. Dean swallowed his hiss of pain with a sip from the whiskey, wincing as it went down. Sam threaded a needle and with one last glance at Dean, started on stitching up the worst of the claw marks. The others would just need patching.

 

After a few minutes of silent work from Sam and thoughtful drinking from Dean, Sam couldn't take it anymore. He finished the stitches and pressed a patch on Dean's arm that covered all the cuts, taping it down. He sat back and watched Dean's face for a moment before speaking. "So, Dad used me as bait?"

 

Dean gave the slightest sign of a start, his eyes glancing in Sam's direction then back to the bottle of Jack Daniels. He gave a nod, a bit of somber apology behind it. Sam realized now that Dean felt guilty. He probably thought he failed at protecting Sam by letting their father put him in harm's way. 

 

"Hey" Sam said, pressing a hand on Dean's warm shoulder, resting it on the gauze that he'd taped over his wound. Dean slowly turned to face him, his green eyes slightly uncertain as they met Sam's warm, worried hazel. 

 

"It wasn't your fault, you know" Sam said, making sure Dean looked at him for every word. "And I'm fine. We killed the creature, survived the hunt. I'm gonna have nightmares for a month, but Dean.. I'm okay."

 

Dean had been shaking his head in disagreement and horror the whole time Sam had been speaking. When he finally spoke, it was quiet and strong but also fearful, his eyes wide as they roamed over Sam's face. "He doesn't get to dangle you like a worm, Sammy. You're his son. You're his goddamn son. And you're my brother. So, no. He doesn't get to treat you that way. Not while I'm around. I'd rather you be safe and nowhere near a hunt."

 

Sam looked away, swallowed. He'd tried not to let what his father had done get to him, tried to look at the situation logically. Sure, he knew it was fucked up, but they'd gotten the creature, so that made up for it. Right? He'd wrestled it the whole ride back to the hotel until he had himself believing it. But Dean was right. The lengths their father would go to… what were the limits? How many times had he pulled something like that with Dean? Then pulled the proud father act to make it seem like it wasn't a big deal that he'd nearly sacrificed his own son? Sam's stomach turned at the thought of how he could have lost Dean because of their father's commitment to the hunt before family.

 

His hand slipped away from Dean's shoulder, but Dean caught it, held it to him. Sam looked up, met those beautiful, loving eyes that were proud of him constantly. Not just when he'd gotten a shot right at practice, or killed a creature. But with everything. Schoolwork, soccer, learning something new that Dean personally didn't care about, but because it was Sammy, he did. Dean had stood up to their father, had punched him in the face and told him off. Sam was inches away from Dean's lips before he knew it. He felt Dean's hand move up his wrist and arm to curl around his neck and close the distance between them.

 

Sam sighed into the kiss, felt the tension he'd carried all day melt away in the heat of their lips pressed together. He opened his mouth to Dean's tongue, felt it curl around his own, explore his own. Sam raised one of his legs and straddled Dean's lap, settled his own hands around Dean's neck. He moaned into the kiss when he felt Dean's hands settle around his hips pressing their groins together for the friction they both wanted, couldn't deny or hide from anymore. Sam growled in irritation when Dean pulled away, braced his legs around Dean in case he tried to get away from him.

 

"Sam…" Dean said softly, running a hand through Sam's sweat-matted, dirty hair. "You're only fourteen. If we're gonna do this…"

 

Sam silenced him with a hand over his mouth and a stern look. "No" Sam said. "We're not having sex tonight, fine. But none of this 'you're too young bullshit', cause I'm not hearing it. Arguably, I'm too young to be out hunting monsters and saving lives, but we're not talking about that right now. We take it slow, fine. But none of this backing out of it anymore, Dean."

 

Dean's eyebrows were raised in honest surprise as he listened attentively to his younger brother. Sam held back a laugh at his expression and pressed on. "I love you. I want you. That's not gonna change just cause you ask me to wait a year or a month. Might as well give it up now. I'm yours. So, yes or no, Dean?"

 

He pulled his hand away and tried not to let his eyes get drawn to Dean's tongue drawing across his plump lips, tasting Sam there. "Well, when you put it that way…"

 

Dean's hand returned to the back of Sam's neck and pulled him back into a kiss that they were both not planning on breaking away from anytime soon. They both took turns grinning at each other, sighing and groaning into the kiss. Tomorrow, they would pack up and move out, move on to another case filled with some scary shit that they'd somehow recover from. They would act like everything was normal but when underneath the skin, everything had changed. For better or worse, who the fuck cared? Sam had said that his feelings were never going to change and just for now, Dean believed him, even if some part of him still believed that Sam would eventually find someone better or leave him. 

 

Dean pushed that part away to the deepest, darkest regions of his brain that he never visited. None of that mattered right now as long as he had Sam right now. Their father would be getting drunk at some bar nearby and wouldn't be back until near dawn, so they had time to just be. To just be Sam and Dean and let the heat of young blood take them over. And, so they did.


End file.
